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American jtten of letters 



EDITED BY 



CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. 




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American fltpen of %ttm$. 



GEORGE RIPLEY, 



BY 



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OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM. 




xoJS&£*U 



. 




BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 

NEW YORK: 11 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET. 

1882. 






Copyright, 1882, 
By OCTAVITJS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge : 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 



b*s 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 

PAGE 

Early Days. — Ministry 1 



CHAPTER H. 
Germs of Thought 94 

CHAPTER III. 
Brook Farm 108 

CHAPTER IV. 
Brook Farm. — Fourierism 166 

CHAPTER V. 
Labor .199 

CHAPTER VI. 
Sorrow . . 226 

CHAPTER VTL 
The New Day 243 



VI 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER VIII. 


PAGE 


Recognition 


CHAPTER IX. 


273 


The End 




. 295 



GEOEGE BIPLEY. 



CHAPTER L 
EARLY DAYS. — MINTSTKY. 

The purpose of this memoir is to recover the 
image and do justice to the character of a re- 
markable man, the pursuits of whose latter 
years gave him little opportunity to display his 
deepest convictions, while his singular charm of 
manner and conversation concealed from all but 
those who knew him well the recesses of his feel- 
ings ; a man of letters, a man too of ideas and 
purposes which left a broad mark on his age, 
and deserve to be gratefully borne in mind. 

George Ripley was born in Greenfield, the 
shire town of Franklin County, Massachusetts, 
— a fair spot in the Connecticut Valley, about 
ninety miles west from Boston, — on the third 
day of October, 1802. He was the youngest but 
one of ten children, four boys and six girls, all 
of whom died before him. His brother Frank- 
lin, a graduate of Dartmouth College, educat- 
ed as a lawyer, and for many years cashier of 
the Greenfield bank, a man of mark, honored 
and trusted, died in 1860. His dearly beloved 
sister Marianne, a woman of superior mental 
l 



2 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

gifts, as well as of the highest personal quali- 
ties, closely acquainted with many prominent 
men and women of her time, an engaging 
teacher, and an earnest fellow-worker with her 
brother at Brook Farm, died at Madison, Wis- 
consin, in May, 1868. The father, Jerome Rip- 
ley, born in Hingham, moved from Boston to 
Greenfield in 1789. He is described by David 
Willard, the historian of Greenfield, as a man 
" whose integrity was never even suspected ; of 
whose virtue and uprightness a long course of 
years leaves no question ; an eminent example 
of the beneficial effects of steady industry and 
perseverance in one calling, and of minding 
one's own business." He was a merchant, a 
justice of the peace nearly fifty years, a repre- 
sentative in the state Legislature, and one of 
the justices of the court of sessions. The 
mother, a connection of Benjamin Franklin 
(her great-grandfather was Dr. Franklin's un- 
cle), was a good example of a New England 
woman, frugal, precise, formal, stately, reserved, 
but kind and warm-hearted at the core. She 
was Orthodox in religion ; her husband was 
Unitarian. There was then in Greenfield, a 
town of about fifteen hundred inhabitants, but 
one church ; the Second Congregational society 
having been formed in 1816, the Third, or Uni- 
tarian, in 1825. At the ordination there, in 



EARLY BAYS. 3 

1837, of John Parkman, George Ripley took 
part. 

In 1831 Ezra Stiles Gannett, returning from 
a visit to Greenfield, writes: "I have always 
found my mind, after a visit to this place or 
Connecticut, in a very different state from what 
is usual at home. My thoughts are more di- 
rected to the subject of religion, of vital and 
internal piety. Conference and religious meet- 
ings are common, and religion seems more an 
every-day thing than with us." Six years later, 
in 1837, Theodore Parker went there. The 
place was charming, but the parish was not at- 
tractive. The meetings were held in a court- 
room. There were five societies for less than 
two thousand people. The sectarian activity was 
greatly in excess of the spiritual. The centres 
of thought were distant ; the weekly mail from 
Boston came on horseback. George Ripley had 
pleasant memories of his early life in this de- 
lightful region. A little more than a year be- 
fore his death he affectionately recalled scenes, 
persons, and social features of that " primitive, 
beautiful country life," but he went there sel- 
dom, as his thoughts were engrossed by larger 
concerns. 

He began his education at the public school, 
a good one. In 1838 there were seven, show- 
ing a remarkable interest in education for so 



4 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

small a community. The only reminiscence of 
his early mental habits is a frequently expressed 
desire to " make a dictionary," a curious an- 
ticipation of his future employment. At Cam- 
bridge he was known as a remarkably handsome 
youth, with bright piercing eyes, an excellent 
scholar, especially in the languages and in lit- 
erature; he excelled also in the mathematics, 
which afterwards, during part of his stay in 
Cambridge, as a student of theology, he taught 
in his college. Twice he received the second 
Bowdoin prize. 

Hadley, June 16, 1818. 
My dear Mother, — ... We have a very large 
school this term, about one hundred and thirty. Mr. 
Huntingdon calculates to fit me for college before 
next Commencement. I suspect that if my health is 
good I can read the Testament and Minora this 
term, which is all that is required at Yale. To fail 
is absolutely impossible. In haste, 

George Ripley. 

Hadley, July 10, 1818. 
Honored Parent, — ... This quarter expires 
on the 11th of August, about six weeks from this 
time. I expect then to have studied the Minora and 
arithmetic. There will then be only a fortnight be- 
fore Commencement, and the remaining studies which 
I need are the Greek Testament and algebra and 



EARLY DAYS. 5 

ancient and modern geography. You will easily 
perceive that it will be impossible for me to become 
acquainted with these before the term commences. 
I may perhaps, with hard study and previous calcula- 
tions, by a year from next fall be fitted as a Sopho- 
more, if you should conclude to send me to Cam- 
bridge. The Commencement at Yale is the second 
week in September, with a vacation of six weeks. 
All that I shall be deficient in at the end of the quar- 
ter, of the preparatory studies required at Yale, will 
be the Greek Testament. A knowledge of that I 
could easily obtain, and before the commencement of 
the term be well fitted and enabled to have a respect- 
able standing in the class. I think it is altogether 
necessary for me to know what arrangements are 
made respecting me, before the expiration of this 
term. I feel grateful that you are willing to be at 
the additional expense of educating me, and I hope 
that I shall duly appreciate the favor. It shall be 
my endeavor, by economy and self-denial, to render 
the burden as light as possible. But I feel embold- 
ened to make the request that, if consistent with your 
inclinations and plans, I may receive an education at 
Yale rather than Cambridge. I may be thought as- 
suming and even impertinent to make this request. 
But, sir, I entreat you to consider the thing. The 
literary advantages at Cambridge are superior in 
some respects to those at Yale. The languages can 
undoubtedly be learnt best at Cambridge. But it is 
allowed by many, who have had opportunity to judge, 
free from prejudice, that the solid branches may be 



6 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

acquired to as great perfection at Yale. Cousin 
Henry, who has had some information on the subject, 
says that for mathematics, metaphysics, and for the 
solid sciences in general, Yale is the best. The 
temptations incident to a college, we have reason to 
think, are less at Yale than at Cambridge. 
I remain your obliged and affectionate son, 

George Ripley. 

Wai.tham, June 12, 1819. 
My dear Mother, — We had upon the whole a 
pleasant journey, though it was rendered disagree- 
able by the extreme heat and dust and the number 
of passengers. We arrived at Lincoln about eight in 
the evening, where we met Dr. Ripley, who carried 
us to Concord. There I passed the night and part 
of the next day, and in the afternoon rode to Wal- 
tham with cousin Sarah. She stated the case to Mr. 
Ripley, who was willing to instruct me, and after an 
examination expressed his opinion that probably I 
might enter at Cambridge, if not at Commencement, 
at the close of the vacation. He has a house full of 
boys, two of whom are to be examined in the fall. 
The advantages here for being well prepared for col- 
lege are indeed many. His system of instruction is 
altogether different from anything which I have been 
accustomed to. It is pretty certain if I had not come 
here, or to some other similar place, I should not 
have been fitted for Cambridge this year ; and as I 
now am I consider it something doubtful whether I 
can get in. My boarding-place is at a Mrs. Smith's, 



COLLEGE. 7 

a very respectable family. The board is $3.00 a 
week, — a large sum. But I trust that eventually 
it will be cheaper for me than if I had remained at 
Greenfield. The place is very pleasant, many beau- 
tiful walks and prospects, and a good situation for 
acquiring knowledge, but the religious state of the 
place is far different from that of Greenfield. 

Cambridge, October, 1819. 
Dear Mother, — At length I have got pretty 
comfortably established in this seminary, and begin 
to feel at home. I have had a very confused time 
hitherto, owing to the perplexities and inconveniences 
which usually attend a student on his first entrance 
on a collegiate course ; but I now find considerable 
quiet and tranquillity, and can behold a prospect of 
profit and improvement. I arrived in Boston the 
day after leaving Greenfield, and found our friends 
in health. You probably desire to know concerning 
my situation and prosperity at this place, but I hardly 
know what opinion to form myself. As I observed 
before, the prospect for improvement in learning is 
favorable. Undoubtedly there are means and privi- 
leges here particularly great, such as are enjoyed by 
no other American college. The course of studies 
adopted here, in the opinion of competent judges, is 
singularly calculated to form scholars, and, moreover, 
correct and accurate scholars ; to inure the mind to 
profound thought and habits of investigation and 
reasoning. I am in great hopes that my health will 
be able to endure the exertions necessary to be made. 



8 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

I am not obliged to study at all hard to perform the 
exercises allotted me. At present our lessons can all 
be learnt in three, or at most four, hours. But the 
diligent student will find something to occupy all his 
time, and leave not a moment to be spent in idleness. 
I expect to have some time to read, and if a judicious 
choice of books is made it may be profitable. The 
expense here will probably be nearly as you expected. 
The commons are charged according to the price of 
provisions ; but usually there is an extra expense, 
called sizing ; that is, if you don't have bread, or but- 
ter, or meat, etc., sufficient, you can call for more, 
and be charged four cents a time. This amounts, 
when it is done no oftener than is absolutely neces- 
sary, to, say, $2.00 a term. The books used in the 
classes are furnished by the University booksellers, 
at a discount of twenty per cent., to be charged in the 
quarter bill. Many second-hand are to be obtained, 
however, for a trifle. I bought a very good book, 
the price of which is $2.80, for two shillings, and 
one or two others in the same proportion. My wash- 
ing I have done at $5.00 per term. 

Your affectionate son, G. Ripley. 

Cambridge, Harvard University, 

November 10, 1819. 

My dear Mother, — ... I would say a few 
words concerning my teaching a school the ensuing 
winter. I have no one in particular in view at pres- 
ent, and it may be doubtful whether I can obtain a 
good one. If it should be thought expedient, I 



COLLEGE. 9 

should be willing to teach one in the vicinity of 
Greenfield. If I could obtain one in Shelburne, be- 
ginning the Monday after Thanksgiving, and con- 
tinue two months, at the rate of $16.00 a month, it 
would perhaps be an object. I consider it my duty 
to use what exertions are in my power to render the 
burden necessary to complete my education as small 
as possible. Your affectionate son, 

George Ripley. 

April 20, 1820. 
. . . The commons have deteriorated very much 
this term, and are almost abandoned by the scholars, 
among the rest by me. I can board at the same 
price as the commons will be in the bill, and on much 
more wholesome provisions. I presume you will ap- 
prove of my change. Next term I hope to board in 
my room at $2.00, as nearly one fourth of the schol- 
ars do. This custom is recently introduced by Pro- 
fessor Everett, who sets the example in imitation of 
the German universities, whose manners and customs 
they endeavor to adopt as much as possible. 

Harvard University, Cambridge, May 15. 
My dear Mother, — ... We have been sub- 
jected to many temporary inconveniences for our at- 
tachment to what we considered our duty, and what 
our own interest and the interests of the college de- 
manded. But good has been educed from evil. The 
division has been so deeply rooted, and animosities 
are so malignant and inveterate, as effectually to pre- 



10 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

vent much of the social intercourse for which, when 
Freshmen, we were particularly distinguished. The 
competition for scholarship has been zealous and en- 
ergetic, and each party jealous of the other strives to 
win the prize. 

It has been reported by our enemies that the only 
object of those who opposed the rebellion was to 
secure the favor of the government, and thereby ob- 
tain higher college honors. Now it happens that 
most of our number are good scholars, and they have 
endeavored to prove, and have probably succeeded, 
that if they do receive high honors it will be due to 
their literary merit, and not to their conduct in this 
affair. Mr. Dorr, of whom you have heard me speak, 
is one of the most efficient and worthy members of 
our party, and is considered by the class as decidedly 
the first scholar. He, indeed, possesses a powerful 
mind, and has every faculty of appearing to the best 
advantage. The tutors say he is the best scholar of 
his age they ever knew. He will probably spend 
some years in Germany after he leaves Cambridge, 
and if his health is spared return one of the most 
eminent among our literary men. I am happy to 
consider this man my friend, for the excellences of 
his heart are not surpassed by the strength of his 
genius. I look forward with pleasure, though not 
unmingled with regret, to the close of the first half 
of my college life. I never expect to be in a state 
where I can have superior means of improvement and 
happiness ; but the minds of young men, inexperi- 
enced and ardent, long for emancipation from the re- 



COLLEGE. 11 

straints of college and power, to take a more active 
and more conspicuous part in the great theatre of 
life. Be it my lot to retire to some peaceful village, 
where, " the world forgetting, and by the world for- 
got," I may pass the remainder of my days in study 
and labor. I love sometimes to anticipate such a 
station as this. Where the Lord will appoint the 
bounds of my habitation I cannot see. My duty, 
however, at present is plain : diligently to improve 
the advantages I enjoy, aspire after high intellectual 
and moral and religious excellence, and do what I 
can for the good of those around me. 

Cambridge, Harvard University, 
April 6, 1821. 

My dear Marianne, — . . . The dull monotony 
of college life presents little that is interesting to 
strangers, and the confinement to abstruse studies 
chills the ardor of feeling which is so necessary to 
the cultivation of the more kindly and tender affec- 
tions. Notwithstanding, I hope that I shall be able 
to maintain a more intimate and regular intercourse 
with my much-loved home. Our studies are so al- 
tered this term as to allow more time for our own 
concerns ; but they are still severe, and, if faithfully 
attended to, will occupy most of our time and thoughts. 
The path of knowledge is difficult and embarrassing, 
requiring the highest exertions of all our faculties. 
But it is a cause in which we richly receive the re- 
ward of our labors. The prospect of devoting my 
days to the acquisition and communication of knowl- 



12 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ledge is bright and cheering ; this employment I 
would not exchange for the most elevated station of 
wealth or honor. One of the happiest steps, I think, 
that I have ever taken was the commencement of a 
course of study, and it is my wish and effort that my 
future progress may give substantial evidence of it. 
It is interesting to contemplate the characters of 
great and good men of other times, and trace the path 
by which they arrived at excellence. We see much, 
however, in many of the most eminent men which 
cannot command our approbation, and frequently that 
awakens our disgust. In a religious view, perhaps, 
the greatest part of those whose names are conspicu- 
ous on the records of fame deserve reprobation. We 
shall see that they were actuated by motives of a 
worldly and selfish ambition, and their very virtues 
were so mingled with what is evidently corrupt that 
we are in doubt whether they deserve that name. 
There is, indeed, a deceitful splendor cast around 
them by the art of the historian, but this very cir- 
cumstance is suited to misguide and delude the youth- 
ful mind. There is great danger lest, in the inexpe- 
rienced and sanguine season of youth, we acquire 
admiration of those characters, and adopt them as 
models, whicn cannot fail to be productive of the 
most injurious consequences. But there are some 
whom we can safely imitate. Such was Cowper. 
" His virtues formed the magic of his song." Of this 
class was Dr. Dwight. I have never read of any 
one, I think, who approached nearer to perfection of 
character. . . . 



COLLEGE. 13 

I send up Dr. Channing's lecture, supposing my 
father would like to have it ; and, by the way, men- 
tion that he is the author of the very beautiful memoir 
of Gallison in the last " Christian Disciple." 

Yours, affectionately, G. Ripley. 

Harvard University, July 12, 1821. 
Mr dear Marianne, — ... I long to see you 
all ; and though you know I have no enthusiastic 
attachment to Greenfield, I would gladly transport 
myself thither this moment, to enjoy a few days in 
the good old hospitable, beautiful mansion. After 
six weeks of hard digging, I hope to partake of that 
happiness. Our studies, however, though hard, are 
singularly pleasant. We have made some progress 
in the intricate mazes of metaphysics, but, with such 
a guide as our learned Professor Hedge, we find our 
difficulties much lessened. We are now studying 
Locke, an author who has done more to form the 
mind to habits of accurate reasoning and sound 
thought than almost any other. 

Harvard University July 17, 1821. 
... If ever I get through this Sophomore year, I 
hope to have some few occasional moments, at leasts 
to devote to what I choose. Now that is out of the 
question ; the class are rapidly going on, and unless 
I give myself to their studies I shall forever lose 
the important knowledge. . . . Last Tuesday the 
Senior class had their valedictory exercises. It was 
a class always distinguished for unanimity, and the 



14 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

parting scene could not be otherwise than solemn and 
affecting. More tears were shed than ever I wit- 
nessed, or had an idea of, among a company of men. 
This class contains some young men of the highest 
promise. The Commencement will probably be the 
best there has been here for years. 

Affectionately your son, George. 

Harvard University, October 30, 1822. 
My dear Mother, — ... I have engaged a 
school in Fitchburg, expecting to raise about $40.00. 
This is certainly better than being devoured by in- 
dolence and ennui in a long vacation. It begins im- 
mediately after Thanksgiving, and if the wagoner 
does not come twice before then, the next time I 
shall wish to have him bring sundry little conven- 
iences. Yours, affectionately, G. E. 

Fitchburg, December 14, 1822. 
My dear Mother, — It is now a week since I 
became an inmate in the family of a good, honest, 
homespun farmer, and assumed the highly important 
and respectable office of instructing some forty over- 
grown, dirty, mischief-loving boys in the mysteries of 
the spelling-book and Adams's arithmetic. I have de- 
ferred writing until this time for several reasons. I 
had not become acquainted with the regulations of 
the mail, etc. I live at some distance from anybody 
but my " parishioners," who are not of that class who 
form the Corinthian columns of society ; and above 
all, I find that head and hands and eyes and tongue 



COLLEGE. 15 

have their full quota of employment in superintend- 
ing the economy of my little empire. This is Sat- 
urday afternoon, equally grateful, I presume, to the 
scholars and to "the master," as I am universally 
called. My situation, although one in which I shall 
be but a short time, I suppose you wish to be ac- 
quainted with. I cannot, however, give you a pre- 
cise idea of it. It is a school in the outskirts of this 
town, where nature appears in all its loneliness and 
wildness, if not magnificence and loveliness. And it 
is, upon the whole, a very pleasant school. The 
scholars have been under good instruction, and are 
singularly attentive to their studies. I have six or 
seven great boys, much larger than myself, who study 
surveying, chemistry, philosophy, etc., so that there 
is some scope for the exercise of intellect. Most of 
them are studying grammar, geography, and arithme- 
tic. I am determined to exert myself and keep a 
good school. I can certainly, I think, make myself 
useful here. There is no particular society in my 
district, but in the middle of the town, two miles off, 
there are some families whom I shall visit occasion- 
ally with pleasure. I could give you a most curious 
account of the customs, etc., but it might not be ex- 
actly prudent. Suffice it to say, I see human nature 
under forms that I had scarcely dreamed of ; still, 
I get information from it, and there is no knowledge 
but what is valuable. Three years ago I should have 
been miserably homesick at such a place, but I have 
learned to shape myself to circumstances. I conform 
entirely to the manners of the people, and drink cider 



16 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

and tell stories about cattle with as much grace as 
ever I figured among the literati at Cambridge. You 
would hardly know me, with a long beard and dirty 
shirt, and the worst clothes I can find. So much for 
Fitchburg. I spent Thanksgiving at Concord, and 
had a good time. 

May 2, Friday Evening. 
My dear Mother, — . . . Five of our class 
were expelled to-day, Robinson among them. The 
class — that is to say, of course, all but the friends of 
order — are in a state of infuriated excitement and 
rebellion. What will take place to-morrow I will not 
venture to predict. It will not surprise us if all the 
class are cut off down to those who have uniformly 
proved themselves the supporters of good discipline. 
It may be that the whole of us will be ordered to 
leave Cambridge ; in that case I shall of course 
come home. If not, in the present exigency it will 
be impossible to quit. In haste yours, 

George Ripley. 

May 3, 1823. 
My dear Mother, — ... In consequence of 
the expulsion of four who were distinguished in the 
attack, the class, or a considerable portion rather, re- 
belled, and they are all gone. Those who remain 
are sober men of both parties. As regards myself, I 
am so fortunate as to have escaped any censure from 
the government of the class. True to my old prin- 
ciples, of course, I did not join the mob, and have en- 
deavored to keep myself quiet. . . . 



COLLEGE. 17 

Harvard University, June, 1823. 
My dear Fatiier, — As I have never had the 
opportunity of conversing particularly with you on 
the course proper for me to adopt on the termination 
of my connection with the college, I take the liberty 
of expressing my own views and of requesting your 
advice. If I were governed merely by the hope of 
success in life, and perhaps of some degree of emi- 
nence, I should by all means endeavor to perfect my 
education by an elaborate course of study, and a res- 
olution to avoid all thoughts of engaging in the du- 
ties of a profession till after a laborious preparation 
of many years. This plan I am advised to adopt by 
some in whose judgment I should place high confi- 
dence. And were I possessed of a moderate for- 
tune, I believe that inclination and duty would both 
prompt me to this enterprise, as laying the broadest 
foundation for future usefulness. The idea of a for- 
eign university would perhaps appear visionary, and 
in my case I will confess it is entirely so. Still I 
cannot avoid all regret at beholding the superior ad- 
vantages which are accessible to our fortunate young 
men, and wishing myself able to enjoy them. For I 
know that my peculiar habits of mind, imperfect as 
they are, strongly impel me to the path of active in- 
tellectual effort ; and if I am to be at any time of 
any use to society, or a satisfaction to myself or my 
friends, it will be in the way of some retired literary 
situation, where a fondness for study and a knowl- 
edge of books will be more requisite than the busy, 
calculating mind of a man in the business part of the 
2 



18 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

community. I do not mean to say by this that any 
profession is desired but the one to which I have 
been long looking. My wish is only to enter that 
profession with all the enlargement of mind and ex- 
tent of information which the best institution can 
afford. In my present circumstances, I cannot rea- 
sonably hope for anything more than a sedulous ef- 
fort to avail myself of what the literary resources we 
have can give. I wish to study my profession thor- 
oughly. I do not feel prepared to enter upon these 
important inquiries before a more accurate acquaint- 
ance is obtained with some subsidiary branches. For 
this purpose I wish to spend a year at Cambridge, 
in a course of study which I have prescribed for my- 
self, unconnected with any department in the uni- 
versity. I should prefer to pursue my theological 
studies at Andover, both because I am convinced that 
the opportunities for close investigation of the Script- 
ures are superior there to those at Cambridge, and 
the spirit of the place, much relaxed from its former 
severe and gloomy bigotry, is more favorable to a 
tone of decided piety. This is my present opinion 
of Andover. I might, after more extensive acquaint- 
ance, have reason to alter it. The only objection at- 
tending this plan is the expense. . . . 
I am your affectionate son, 

George Ripley. 

July 18, 1823. 
My dear Mother, — I have the pleasure of in- 
forming you that our college course is at length fin- 



COLLEGE. 19 

ished, and I may add, with joy. On Tuesday we re- 
ceived the valedictory from the president, and took our 
leave of the college officers at the president's house. 
The world is now before us, and our future charac- 
ter depends much on the course we now adopt. I 
feel a strong and affectionate attachment to the col- 
lege and its governors. I have found here my best 
friends, and I have been enabled to acquire their con- 
fidence. I wish now to devote myself to the cause 
of truth and virtue, in the study of a pure religion 
and the cultivation of a sound literature. I regret 
that I have been unsuccessful hitherto in my attempt 
to procure a school. I shall still look out for a suit- 
able one, and may perhaps attain my object. I must 
stay here, at any rate, until I have prepared for Com- 
mencement, for which occasion I feel very unable to 
meet my duty. It affects my spirits materially. The 
scale has preponderated- in my favor. I have the 
first part, and of course an unusual degree of re- 
sponsibleness. I am also the author, as you may 
have seen in the paper, of a successful Dissertation 
for the Bowdoin Prize. . . . 

In 1823 he was graduated at Harvard, first 
scholar in a class which could boast of William 
P. Lunt, Samuel H. Stearns, and Thomas W. 
Dorr, of Rhode Island fame. John P. Robin- 
son, the hero of J. R. Lowell's celebrated 
rhyme, pressed him hard, but was suspended 
from college for the share he took in the " re- 
bellion," and lost his degree, which was given 



20 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

him in 1845. At the exercises of graduation 
Ripley spoke the English oration, the subject 
being " Genius as affected by Moral Feeling." 
The three years following were spent in the 
study of divinity, during a portion of which 
he was a member of the College Faculty, rep- 
resenting the departments of Mathematics and 
Natural Philosophy. Of his life in the Divin- 
ity School there is scanty record ; but so high 
was his rank as a scholar that at the close 
of his studies there was throughout academic 
circles the expectation for him of a brilliant 
future. 

Cambridge, September 30, 1823. 

My dear Mother, — With pleasure I begin the 
labors of my new situation by informing you of my 
condition and prospects ; and I know that you will 
rejoice with me in the goodness of Providence which 
has appointed the bounds of my habitation where I 
have every facility for real improvement. 

The prospects of our Theological School are so 
good, and the call in society for a faithful and de- 
voted clergy, who combine liberal views with deep 
piety, is daily becoming so urgent, that I cannot re- 
gret having chosen this place as the scene of my 
theological investigations. Indeed, it is thought by 
many competent judges, and among them Dr. Chan- 
ning, that this institution presents advantages for 
forming useful, practical clergymen not inferior to 
the foreign universities. He advises William Emer- 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 21 

son to study at Cambridge rather than at Gottingen, 
believing that though Germany affords the greatest 
advantages as far as mere literature is concerned, yet 
that the best education for a minister in New Eng- 
land, taking into account the moral influence and re- 
ligious feeling, can be obtained at Cambridge. ... I 
am remarkably pleasantly situated, and have every- 
thing to my mind. My room is in a brick house, — 
the south end, — the very last house on the right 
hand of the street in which the printing-office is. I 
hope that father will have no difficulty in finding it. 
It is on the lower floor, about as large as our front 
room, with two recesses in it ; these I have divided 
off by a curtain from the main room, so as to form 
closets. I have all Mr. Lincoln's books at my dis- 
posal, which, together with the few that I own myself, 
form a very pretty little library. I feel perfectly sat- 
isfied that I have acted according to the will of Prov- 
idence, as far as I can ascertain it, in uniting myself 
to this school, and that so far from departing from 
my religious principles, as some would suppose, I 
have done that which will tend to their improvement 
and perfection. I could say much on the emotions 
which are awakened on commencing those studies to 
which I have long been looking with fond anxiety 
and earnest hope. I feel that it is solemn indeed 
to take any step towards an office involving such re- 
sponsibility, such infinite consequences. But God 
will use such instruments as He chooses to promote 
his truth in the world. . . . 



22 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Cambridge, October 1, 1823. 

Mr dear Mother, — . . . My cares are now 
for my books. My walks of pleasure are exchanged 
for walks of exercise and health ; and Green River 
Bridge has given way to Mr. Norton's study and the 
library. And I am glad. Much as I love company 
and gayety, I do love study and retirement best ; and 
for this reason, when I once get to Cambridge, I feel 
that I never wish to go out of it. It would be so, I 
suppose, in any place where I had such cherished in- 
tellectual friends, and where scarce anything is desti- 
tute of associated circumstances, interesting, and to 
literary effort and to moral sentiment inspiring. It- 
may be superstition, but I cannot help the feeling. 
I have a strong reverence for the Genius of Place, 
and to me there is no place for the exercise of free, 
vigorous, effectual thought like this ; and after these 
remarks you will not ask rae why I like Cambridge 
so much. 

Cambridge, October 14, 1823. 

My dear Mother, — ... I am on very differ- 
ent grounds from what I was when an under-graduate. 
Then I was led on by others ; now I am left to my 
own keeping, and you may judge the weight of re- 
sponsibility which I must feel. We have exercises 
in the Hebrew language three times a week, arid once 
a week we present the results of our theological read- 
ing and investigations on topics pointed out to us by 
Dr. Ware. I am besides diligently engaged in Greek 
and other subsidiary studies ; so that my time is more 
completely and regularly occupied than ever. I hope 



DIVINITY SCIIOOL. 23 

to make all these attainments subservient to the great 
cause of truth. I am much disappointed in what I 
have learned of the religious character of the school, 
I confess. I had some prejudices against many of its 
members, who, destitute of the austerity, I had thought 
to be deficient in the spirit, of religion. But if a 
more intimate acquaintance has enabled me to judge 
rightly, the depth and purity of their religious feel- 
ing and the holy simplicity of their lives is enough 
to humble and shame those who have been long pro- 
fessors of Christianity, and had pretended to superior 
sanctity. We meet morning and evening for devo- 
tional exercises, and I have no hesitation in saying 
that if I have ever witnessed the display of spiritual- 
ity and seriousness of devotion it is in these little 
meetings. . . . 

Cambridge, November 3, 1823. 

My dear Molly, — ... I am here engaged in a 
great work, while at home with you I am idle, use- 
less, and unimproving. I have commenced the most 
interesting studies, which, to me, are superior to any- 
thing which can occupy my mind. My business is 
now well arranged; every hour has its duty, and 
every day I can look back and most generally " re- 
port progress." I am now employed something in 
the way in which I trust I am destined to pass my 
life; and if the profession I have chosen is in any 
degree as rich in sources of delight as the study of it, 
my lot is indeed a happy one. I expect to pass a life 
of poverty, and I care not if of obscurity ; but give 
me my Bible and the studies which relate to its in- 



24 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

terpretation, give me that philosophy, which explains 
our moral faculty and intellect, and I ask not for 
wealth or fame. I can be useful to my fellow-men. 
I wish to say a word with regard to the caution you 
give me concerning a change of sentiments. In the 
first place, the opinion of the world is but a puff of 
empty air. Let the world say what it pleases ; truth, 
and truth unpopular and odious, — aye, and that which 
is stigmatized as heresy and sin, — must be sought and 
professed by the consistent Christian. . . . 

Yours, dear Molly, truly, George. 

1 Cambridge. 
. . . My health has been capital ever since my re- 
turn. I have entirely escaped the prevailing influ- 
enza. We have quite study enough to afford agree- 
able excitement without being too much to oppress 
with its burden. The walking is now very fine, and 
I spend much time in exercise in the open air. I 
have been in Boston but little since my return, and, 
with the exception of a very few friends, I have vis- 
ited but little in Cambridge. I am now writing my 
second sermon, which I shall preach before the school 
on Saturday, with the hope that I shall be more suc- 
cessful than I was at first. 

My dear Molly, — ... Did you ever see a 
mill-horse ? Such are we, groaning under Hebrew, 
Biblical Criticism, Polemics, and Metaphysics, — one 
hard round. No time for the delights of vacation, 
though I have been to one party at Stephen Higgin- 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 25 

son's, Esq., merely out of honor to the Theological 

School, where I saw the incomparable Miss , 

who unfortunately wears a crutch ; and the learned 

Miss , whom they call the Immortal, is here. Do 

you read the " Christian Register " ? I forget whether 
the Doctor takes it or not. I wish to ask if you have 
noticed in the two or three last ones some pieces 
signed "C." There is a very grave and philosophical 
old gentleman, whom I believe you know, but whose 
name I would not mention for the world, who has 
undertaken to enlighten the good readers of that pa- 
per. I hope you will be far from supposing that 
his gray wig conceals a curly pate, or his sage and 
sombre reflections a light heart and merry spirit. 
But the old fellow is sincere. He desired to do good, 
and he thought it might be best done by giving some 
adventitious dignity to the source from which his 
weighty remarks proceed. It is, moreover, amusing 
to hear, as this gray-beard walks unseen through our 
ample halls, and even makes one of our family, his 
merits discussed, and the question gravely asked if 
it is not probable that C. means Dr. Channing. But 
my time is out. If I have told you any secret, which 
I have not, or given your conjectures any food, which 
I have, pray be exhorted to keep them to yourself. 

And now I conclude my epistle by beseeching 
you, lady, to defend me against the righteous indig- 
nation of the Doctor at my unhallowed levity and my 
still more prancing, undignified, execrable handwrit- 
ing. Scatter my benedictions. Most truly, 

G 



26 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

. . . After Mr. Young's ordination, at the New 
South, I shall make strenuous endeavors to spend the 
vacation at Greenfield. The president told me the 
other day, as I suggested in my letter to father, that 
he might wish me to write for him, but I shall not 
be easily prevented from spending a part, at least, of 
my vacation at Greenfield. I do not like the idea of 
spending a long time without study, as every moment 
in my present situation is precious. I am not one of 
those who can write or speak from the inspiration of 
genius, but all that I do must be the result of my 
own personal untiring efforts. If I am to be useful 
as a Christian minister, which is the great object of 
my present ambition, it is by laying a solid founda- 
tion of deep, critical, theological knowledge, rather 
than by any attempts at popular eloquence or fine 
writing. With these views, you cannot wish me to 
sacrifice my improvement to my pleasure, or even to 
your gratification. . . . 

I am ever your affectionate son, 

George R. 

Cambridge, February 5, 1824. 
Dear Mary, — I had a very cold ride from Con- 
cord, and arrived just at dark. Nothing interesting 
has occurred to diversify the sameness of our routine. 
We go on from day to day, — sleep long and eat tem- 
perately, cut jokes and characters in the same breath, 
read the newspapers, and talk about Amherst College 
and the Greeks and the next President and the levees 
at Washington. Some books we read, and many 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 27 

title-pages ; we study and understand some specula- 
tions in philosophy, and dispute about more. There 
is a fine fund of knowledge floating about in the at- 
mosphere, and in minds which have anything like a 
chemical affinity for it it lodges ; other minds it poi- 
sons, and makes them pedantic and proud. I am 
plodding on very leisurely and very stupidly trying 
to know a little of everything, and a great deal about 
Theology and Metaphysics, and eke a bird's-eye view 
of History ; taking care, you may be sure, to solace 
the interval with sundry vanities in the form of 
poetry, books, and novels. I went, moreover, last 
night, to what they call here a select Cambridge party 

at Miss 's, where I talked to the ladies and ate 

jellies ; " in sic creature comforts," you know, I de- 
light. After all, such concerns are about as inter- 
esting to me as the "crackling of thorns ; " but we 
cannot always have substantial hickory, nor yet mount- 
ain oak, and when the thorns blaze merrily I would 
not refuse to enjoy the brightness, and especially I 
would not throw myself upon the tiny fire, like a 
great green log, to quench the flame which can burn 
but a little hour at best. So I laughed with the gay 
and sported with the trifling till almost eleven o'clock, 
and came home and turned myself to a dry discussion 
on the value of Intellectual Philosophy with a clear 
mind and light heart. So much for my dissipation. 

You asked me to say something about the article 
in the " Disci pie.'*' For myself, I freely confess that 
I think it a useful thing and correct. The rigor of 
my orthodoxy, which is commonly pretty suscepti- 



28 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ble, was not offended. Now, if you have any ob- 
jections which you can accurately and definitely state, 
no doubt there is something in it which had escaped 
my notice. If your dislike is only a misty, un certain 
feeling about something, you know not what, it were 
well to get fairly rid of it by the best means. I am 
far from having any sympathy with the writer of the 
article, or the school of divines to which he belongs. 
I believe his views of religion are quite different 
from Dr. Channing's, whom I place first in the list of 
Unitarian ministers, and from those clergymen who 
enter more deeply into the views entertained by Dr. 
C. and Buckminster, Thatcher, Mr. Frisbie, etc. I 
do not allude to speculative opinions, but to senti- 
ments connected more with personal, experimental 
religion. But this topic I must reserve till I see you, 
and am yours ever, G. R. 

Cambridge, July 18, 1824. 
My dear Sister, — ... I wish I could give 
you an idea of the solemnities at Mr. Gannett's or- 
dination, but a description on paper would be so flat 
and inadequate that I will not attempt it. It was a 
day of great joy for those who wish to see fervent 
piety connected with sound doctrine and liberal feel- 
ings. I would, but I cannot, enable you to form a 
conception of the infantine simplicity and apostolic 
meekness, united with the eloquence of an angel and 
spirituality of a sainted mind, which characterize Dr. 
Channing. His sermon will be printed. 

I send you up Locke's Botany, though I doubt 



DIVINITY SCI100L. 29 

whether you will find the grapes of Eshcol or the 
rose of Sharon in your botanical studies. I would 
give much more for the fragrance and richness of a 
cultivated flower than for an accurate knowledge of 
the stamens and petals and pistils of all the wild 
flowers on our western mountains. . . . 

Yours, G. Ripley. 

Harvard University, November 2lth. 
My dear Mother, — ... I believe the more ju- 
dicious we become, the less confidence we shall place 
in some appendage of religion, and the more charity 
we shall have for others, although we may think 
widely different from them. In short, true religion 
is in the heart, and is not connected with any form 
or any language. . . . 

Cambridge, December 10, 1824. 
My dear Mother, — ... I returned yester- 
day from Salem, where I had been attending Mr. 
Upham's ordination. I can give you no adequate 
idea of the pleasure of the visit. I would describe 
the great interest of the occasion, the deep feeling of 
the society, the enthusiasm excited by the recollec- 
tions connected with this venerable church, — the first 
one established in New England by our Pilgrim Fa- 
thers, — the contrast of the present situation with 
that of the great and good men who, when they had 
built seven houses in Naumkeag, — for so the In- 
dians called what is now Salem, — erected an eighth, 
and consecrated it to the worship of Almighty God, 



30 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

— these associations I would describe ; but it requires 
more eloquence than I possess to do them justice. 

Mr. Upham's prospects of a happy, useful, and re- 
spectable ministry are indeed brilliant. It is a very 
religious, intelligent people to whom Ije ministers. 
They have been early educated in the fear of God, 
and as a society beautifully display the pure and 
lovely fruits of our divine faith. They appear very 
much to act up to the spirit of the exhortation, " Be- 
loved, let us love one another, for love is of God, and 
he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God and He in 
him." There have been some unhappy divisions in 
the society, but they have terminated in the peace 
and harmony of the First Church. I went to Salem 
with Upham on Tuesday, who introduced me to the 
family of one of his most respectable parishioners, 
Judge White, where I soon found myself quite at 
home, and where I stayed with Upham and Mrs. 
Holmes and several intelligent gentlemen till Thurs- 
day. I was glad to form several acquaintances here 
with distinguished individuals whom I had long 
known as public men, but not as private persons : for 
instance, the venerable Timothy Pickering, whom I 
suppose my father reveres as the apostle of Federal- 
ism, — a most delightful old man, with all the simplic- 
ity and modesty of a child ; John Pickering, the best 
Greek scholar in New England ; Dr. Bowditch ; and 
last, not least, Dr. Channing, whom I never before 
met. I say nothing of several merchants, who a good 
deal interested me by their liberality and wide views 
and charming manners, for were I to particularly men- 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 31 

tion them I could not tell when to begin or when to 
stop. The religious exercises were solemn and im- 
pressive, — especially the prayers of Drs. Channing 
and Sewell, which were enough to excite devotion 
in a heart of stone. I saw Mr. Peabody at Judge 
White's, who tells me that there is a prospect of es- 
tablishing a liberal society at Northampton. Pray, 
have you read the correspondence of the people and 
Mr. Tucker ? I am no partisan of any sect, but I 
must rejoice in seeing any progress towards the con- 
viction that Christianity is indeed " glad tidings of 
great joy" and that in its original purity it was a 
very different thing from the system that is popu- 
larly preached, and which is still received as reason- 
able and scriptural by men and women who in other 
respects are sensible and correct in their judgments. 
When shall we learn that without the spirit of Christ 
we are none of his ? . . . 

Cambridge, May 4, 1825. 

My dear Mother, — ... The prospects of pro- 
fessional success and usefulness appear brighter every 
day. There is an unexampled call from all parts of 
the country for our students, and a disposition mani- 
fested to hear what we consider more useful and 
practical, if not more able preaching than can else- 
where be obtained. For my own part, I am more 
and more grateful to a kind Providence which di- 
rected me to Cambridge, where I have learned those 
views of religion at once so attractive and lovely, so 
simple, scriptural, and reasonable, — affording such 
motives to holiness, such consolation in sorrow, such 



32 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

hope in death. I trust I am not becoming a partisan 
nor a bigot. I have suffered enough, and too much, in 
sustaining those characters, in earlier, more inexpe- 
rienced, and more ignorant years ; but I have no pros- 
pects of earthly happiness more inviting than that of 
preaching the truth, with the humble hope of being 
instrumental in impressing it on the mind with 
greater force, purity, and effect than I could do with 
any other than my present conviction. I feel bound 
to my profession, — so much so that you will not be 
surprised when I inform you that I deemed it right 
to decline the appointment of mathematical tutor, 
with an emolument of $700, which was recently of- 
fered me. I presume and hope that none of my 
friends can regret what may appear at first as a pe- 
cuniary sacrifice, but what a broad view of the future 
clearly convinces me was necessary, and ultimately 
can be of no disadvantage. 

Cambridge, December 6, 1825. 
Dear Marianne, — I am now very pleasantly 
situated and delightfully employed, with responsible 
and difficult labor enough to keep me thoughtful and 
awake, and intervals of rest to show me that the 
relaxation purchased by fatigue is by far the best. 
Father will think my habits are somewhat improving 
when he hears that I rise two hours before the sun 
these cold mornings, and never sleep between-while. 
I am very glad that I accepted the office I am in, as 
it does not interfere with my professional views, and 
gives me the consciousness that, instead of being a 



ENGAGEMENT. 33 

burden to others I am making myself useful, and in- 
stead of being dependent I am earning my bread 
actually by the sweat of my brow, and it gives me 
the prospect, at the end of the year, of having laid 
up in this world's goods a handsome store, for a boy. 
Still I had rather by far preach, which I hope I shall 
soon be able to do. We have a fortnight's vaca- 
tion at Christmas, at which time I intend to " come 
home," though I do most heartily abhor the process 
of riding a hundred miles a day in a stage-coach. 

Cambridge, May 3, 1826. 
My dear Marianne, — ... I could have 
wished, for more reasons than one, that mother might 
find it in her heart to accompany father, as her 
Boston friends are very desirous to see her, as the 
journey might benefit her health, and as I myself 
have various matters of grave import, which it would 
gratify me to hear her discourse upon with her moth- 
erly wisdom and sympathy. What these matters are 
you perhaps can conjecture. I shall not unfold them 
until I am brought, in the gradual progress of events, 
unto this page of my letter. Well, I have come to 
this point. In your last letter you asked me what 
were my prospects on the subject which was nearest 
to my earthly happiness ; then, I should have an- 
swered, all was black darkness. Now, l my dearest 
Marianne, by a most unexpected train of events, the 
obstacles to our affection are removed ; a just regard 
to prudence does not forbid us to cherish an attach- 
ment which has long been the secret idol of our 



34 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

hearts ; and yesterday our circle of dear friends were 
edified by the intelligence of a new engagement! 
The details of all this I shall hereafter explain. 
You will know this being whose influence over me 
for the year past has so much elevated, strengthened, 
and refined my character. You will entirely sym- 
pathize with me. I cannot now write to my parents, 
who, I am sure, cannot disapprove the step I have 
taken, when you expound to them all the circum- 
stances, — which I wish you to do as copiously as you 
can. The whole matter meets with the most sur- 
prising approbation and sympathy from the whole 
society of Cambridge. The most just, proper, nat- 
ural, fit, reasonable, delightful connection, say they, 
that has been known for a long time. My father 
may, perhaps, think that it would have been more 
prudent for me to have deferred this consummation 
until my prospects in an uncertain and trying pro- 
fession were more definite. To this I have to say, 
my wisest friends assert that my prospects of pro- 
fessional success, in the highest sense of the term, 
are tolerably fair, — so much so as entirely to justify 
this arrangement. What can be depended upon still 
more, I say myself that for nine years I have relied 
upon the blessing of a kind Providence given to my 
own personal, active, patient efforts. In this I have 
not been disappointed, and it is the course which I 
fully intend to pursue. It has never been my wish, 
you all know, to be a rich man, nor what the world 
calls a great man, but to be a respected, useful, and 
happy man. And this connection, which is founded 



ORDINATION. 35 

not upon any romantic or sudden passion, but upon 
great respect for intellectual power, moral worth, 
deep and true Christian piety, and peculiar refine- 
ment and dignity of character, promises, I think, to 
advance me in the best way in this life, and to aid 
me, above all, in the great end of life, the prepara- 
tion for heaven. My mother will recollect her great 
admiration of Dr. Jackson. You will inform her 
how deeply he is interested, how valuable his friend- 
ship, how paternal his advice. 

Truly your own brother, George. 

Cambridge, August 25, 1826. 
My dear Marianne, — I received a letter from 
you, — a singular rarity, — which I fully believe t 
answered soon after the occurrence of the auspicious 
event ; but as I have had no returns from Green- 
field, a slight suspicion glances over my mind that 
instead of actually replying to your letter I mistook 
the will for the deed. Is it so ? ... I begin to 
preach at Purchase Street on the next Lord's Day ; 
I have then an invitation to renew my engagement 
at Chauncy Place for an indefinite time ; and lastly, 
a Macedonian cry is heard from Baltimore, " Come 
over and help us," to which I do not turn the deaf ad- 
der's ear, but partially engage to spend some weeks of 
the winter in that benighted city. I wash my hands 
of this college on the first day of October next ; and 
hope from that time to eschew the delightful task of 
directing the young idea in all its various ramifica- 
tions, and to turn my attention to the nobler labor 



36 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

of influencing grown men on the most important 
subjects. . . . 

On his leaving Cambridge, in 1826, he was 
at once ordained pastor of a Unitarian society 
gathered expressly for him in what was then a 
respectable part of Boston. The new meeting- 
house at the corner of Purchase and Pearl 
Streets, near Griffin's Wharf, where the tea- 
ships lay in the old time, was built for its use. 
It was a remarkably unattractive structure of 
stone, with a small belfry on the top. The in- 
side was as homely as the outside. It was ca- 
pable of holding about three hundred people. 
The corner-stone was laid on the 7th of Sep- 
tember, 1825. On that occasion Henry Ware 
delivered an address, in which he described the 
building to be erected as " not magnificent, but 
simple and unostentatious like the faith to which 
it is devoted ; " spoke of "the great principles 
of the Reformation," "the right of private judg- 
ment," and added, "No articles of faith shall 
call in question the sufficiency of the Script- 
ures ; " " Our platform is as wide and generous 
as the spirit of our religion itself ; " " If it were 
possible in this disturbed day, we could long 
and hope that here might be neutral ground. 
The day [for this] is coming at length;" In 
conclusion he said: "Where the heavens now 
swell above us, declaring their Maker's glory, 



THE CORNER-STONE. 37 

shall soon be interposed a roof of human work- 
manship, beneath which shall be declared the 
brighter glory of his redeeming love. We shall 
intercept the light of yonder sun, whose beams 
shall no more fall upon this floor ; but the more 
reviving beams of the 8 Sun of Righteousness ' 
shall rest there without a cloud. The dews of 
night shall come down upon this spot no more, 
and the winds of the ocean shall henceforth be 
excluded ; but the dews of divine grace, as we 
trust, shall plenteously visit it, and the gentle 
breathings of the Holy Spirit shall never cease 
to shed upon it life and peace ; and from this 
place, where now, perhaps, for the first time, 
the voice of Christian worship has ascended to 
heaven, there shall forever go up, to the end of 
time, incense and a pure offering from multi- 
tudes of humble and believing hearts. Let us 
go hence with this persuasion. " 

Ah, how short is the keenest human vision ! 
The multitude never came ; the "respectable" 
people gradually left that quarter of the town, 
which was rapidly occupied by the dwellers 
in tenement houses. In less than twenty-five 
years the building was sold to the Catholics for 
thirty thousand dollars ; the fire of 1872 swept 
it away, and now nothing remains of the church 
so hopefully planted. The leather interest has 
taken possession of the site so poetically dedi- 



38 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

cated to the uses of religion, and the visitor in 
that region recalls the words addressed to Shy- 
lock in the well known trial scene, " Not on thy 
soul, but on thy sole." 

The dedication took place August 24, 1826 ; 
the ordination followed on the 8th of Novem- 
ber. It is evidence of the promise of the new 
ministry that the president of Harvard College, 
Dr. Kirkland, preached the sermon ; that Dr. 
Lowell made the prayer of ordination ; that 
Dr. Ware gave the charge. The other clergy- 
men officiating, Alexander Young and Ezra S. 
Gannett, were then less known. The young 
pastor began his career under brave though 
" conservative " auspices. 

Boston, November 26, 1826. 
My dear Mother, — ... I am just beginning 
to feel at home in my new habitation in Williams 
Street, and on many accounts I find it a most desira- 
ble situation. The family are everything that I could 
wish, and are more devoted to the task of making 
me comfortable than one could expect from strangers. 
I am in a very central spot, not far from my church, 
in the midst of my people, contiguous to all my 
haunts, such as the Athenaeum, bookstores, etc., and 
at the same time it is quiet and retired as the coun- 
try ; and I can sit and study, near indeed to the busy 
world, but undisturbed by its noise, and almost, I 
might say, out of the reach of its temptations. My 



MINISTRY. 39 

rooms are pleasant, and furnished in a style of simple 
neatness, which is as agreeable to my feelings as it is 
to my circumstances. . . . 

I have become acquainted with several families in 
my society, and am better pleased than I at first ex- 
pected. They are chiefly from the middling classes 
of society, but I have not yet learned that intelligence 
and piety are confined to any one class. I am sure 
of this, that what little experience I have had in the 
more elevated walks will not here be lost, and I 
trust I may be able to communicate some good influ- 
ence from the habits of feeling which prevail in a dif- 
ferent sphere. I am pretty well satisfied that I shall 
be happier in the city than I could ever be in the 
country. I have access to sources of improvement 
and enjoyment here which I could not have else- 
where, and without which I should feel that some- 
thing important was wanting. My people are partic- 
ularly kind to me, and seem disposed to receive all 
my attempts to move them with real indulgence. I 
shall try not to be unworthy of their good-will. My 
health is excellent, and I hope I shall be able to pre- 
serve it without much difficulty. I find that preach- 
ing agrees with my constitution, and on Monday 
morning I am as free from fatigue as if I had been 
idle the day before. Affectionately your son, 

G. Ripley. 

Boston, January 9, 1827. 
. . . My hands are full of labor, and my heart with 
cares for my own people, who, although a little band, 



40 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

demand a great deal of my time and all of my atten- 
tion. There is a great attention to leligion at this 
moment throughout the city, and I feel it a bounden 
duty to do what I can to promote it, and to direct the 
excitement into a proper channel. I administered 
the communion for the first time yesterday, and ad- 
mitted nine to my church, for some of whom I feel a 
peculiar interest, as they have been led to the step 
under the influence of my preaching. I am gratified 
at the serious impressions I find produced, because 
they assure me of the adaptation of rational religion 
to the needs and sorrows of all conditions of men. 
It has been reproached as a faith merely for men of 
intellect and taste. It is so, but it also speaks loudly 
to the poor and uneducated, as I have had ample 
proof. 

Bostox, February 14, 1827. 

My dear Mother, — I have little to say about 
myself but that I am quietly peering about the streets 
and lanes of the city, dropping the good seeds of Chris- 
tian truth wherever I find a prepared mind, and once 
a week enforcing what I say in private by a more 
elaborate argument in public. My society is growing 
tranquilly by my side. It is now quite an infant, and 
needs gentle nursing, but I hope it will live and ad- 
vance to the stature of a perfect man. 

Yours affectionately, G. R. 

Later in this year Mr. Ripley was married to 
the lady referred to in the letters, Miss Sophia 
Willard Dana, daughter of Francis Dana, of 



MAURI AGE. 41 

Cambridge, and from that time lived in what is 
now Chauncy Street. The union was an ex- 
ceedingly happy one, a union of mind and heart; 
spoken of by one who knew them both as " an 
ideal union." There was entire sympathy in 
all things. 

These were the palmy days of Unitarianism. 
Societies were formed in different parts of the 
city; meeting-houses were built; money was 
raised ; missionaries were employed. In that de- 
cade the " Ministry at Large" established three 
chapels : one in Warren Street, one in Pitts 
Street, and one in Suffolk Street. Dr. Chan- 
ning, assisted by Mr. Gannett, was preaching 
in Federal Street; Henry Ware in Hanover 
Street, F. W. P. Greenwood at King's Chapel, 
J. G. Palfrey in Brattle Street, Francis Park- 
man in Hanover Street, Alexander Young in 
Summer Street, John Pierpont in Hollis Street, 
Charles Lowell in Lynde Street, Samuel Bar- 
rett in Chambers Street, N. L. Frothingham in 
Chauncy Place, M. J. Mott in Washington 
Street ; James Walker was at Charlestown, Ca- 
leb Stetson was at Medford, John Pierce was at 
Brookline. 

Unitarianism had but recently become aware 
of its existence as a distinct form of the Prot- 
estant faith. The habit of free inquiry, once 
formed, went steadily but silently on, ques- 



42 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

tioning doctrines, criticising texts, examining 
grounds of belief, disputing fundamental dog- 
mas, till, unconsciously, the whole position was 
altered. The records of the First Church in 
Boston, now more than two hundred and fifty 
years old, nowhere intimate that its harmony 
was disturbed ; its members chose pastors from 
generation to generation without the least diffi- 
culty on the score of doctrinal belief, though its 
actual minister was one of the foremost teachers 
of the so-called " Liberal " school. Mr. Chan- 
ning's celebrated sermon at the ordination of 
Jared Sparks in Baltimore was preached in 
1819. The discussion began immediately after, 

— Channing taking issue with Dr. Miller of 
Princeton, Norton standing up against Moses 
Stuart on the question between unity and trin- 
ity, Ware facing Dr. Woods as an assailant of 
the dogmas of Calvinism. 

The Unitarianism of the period we are con- 
sidering was a dignified form of Christianity, — 
sober, thoughtful, serious. It was the religion 
of the most intellectual men in the community, 

— men like Judge Shaw, Judge Story, Judge 
White, — who clung to Christianity with the 
tenacious hold of an honest reverence and a 
strong conviction. Its historical foundations 
they regarded as established ; its founder they 
revered as a miraculously authenticated teach- 



UNITARIANISM. 43 

er; they cherished a sentiment of deep rational 
piety, principles of strict personal morality, and 
a remarkably high standard of public virtue. 
They knew nothing of theological subtleties or 
critical refinements. Here and there a preacher 
laid vehement stress on points of controversial 
theology ; now and then a congregation was 
asked to listen more often than was necessary 
to prosaic homilies on texts of Scripture, or to 
discourses on personal morals ; but in the main 
the style of pulpit administration was devout 
and spiritual. " Sensational " sermons were 
not in vogue ; a quiet, even strain of public 
speech, manly and elevating, prevailed. The 
" water of life," if cold, was pure ; if not spark- 
ling, it was fresh. There was no fanaticism, 
little enthusiasm ; but of superstition there was 
absolutely none. Both ministers and people 
were persuaded that they could give a reason 
for the faith that was in them and out of them. 
Rational they may have been, to a fault. They 
had lost the sense of mystery ; they put thought 
before feeling ; substituted sight for insight ; 
set knowledge in advance of faith. But they 
were high-minded, full of fear toward God and 
of love toward the Saviour. They read their 
Bibles with reverence, said their prayers morn- 
ing and evening, and kept holy the Lord's Day. 
The spirit of skepticism was not in them. Of 



44 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

" philosophy," — -whether German, French, or 
English, — they were as innocent as new-born 
babes. In their view the clerical profession was 
exalted above all others ; the minister was a 
man set apart. They had not fairly begun to 
express dissatisfaction with the regular dispen- 
sation of the Word. The modern spirit of in- 
dividualism, which so often arrays the pew 
against the pulpit, had not risen to its present 
stature. Occasional murmurings were heard 
against this preacher because he did not "draw;" 
against that one because he was inattentive in 
the way of parish calls ; against a third because 
he was too young, or too flowery, or too heed- 
less of the proprieties, or too unattractive to 
those who wore the first-class bonnets, the red 
caps, or the white wigs : but, on the whole, so- 
cieties were docile. There was no schism and 
no threat of schism in the body. Theodore 
Parkers disturbing sermon at South Boston 
was not preached till 1841 ; and even that was 
heard without alarm. Mr. Emerson left the 
ministry in 1832, because he could not admin- 
ister the rite of communion. So unsuspecting 
of danger were the leaders of the sect that in 
1834 the Association printed as a tract James 
Walker's admirable address, entitled "The Phi- 
losophy of Man's Spiritual Nature in regard to 
the Foundations of Faith," in which doctrines 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 45 

of a "transcendental" complexion were ad- 
vanced. The " Liberal" movement had not 
entered on its third stage when George Ripley 
was ordained. 

He was no unbeliever, no skeptic, no inno- 
vator in matters of opinion or observance, but 
a quiet student, a scholar, a man of books, a 
calm, bright-minded, high-souled thinker ; be- 
lieving, hopeful, social, sunny, but absorbed in 
philosophical pursuits. Well does the writer of 
these lines recall the vision of a slender figure, 
wearing in summer the flowing silk robe, in 
winter the long dark blue cloak, of the profes- 
sion, walking with measured step from his resi- 
dence in Rowe Place towards the meeting-house 
in Purchase Street. The face was shaven clean ; 
the brown hair curled in close, crisp ringlets ; 
the face was pale as if with thought ; gold- 
rimmed spectacles concealed the black eyes ; the 
head was alternately bent and raised. No one 
could have guessed that the man had in him the 
fund of humor in which his friends delighted, 
or the heroism in social reform which, a few 
years later, amazed the community. He seemed 
a sober, devoted minister of the gospel, formal, 
punctilious, ascetic, a trifle forbidding to the 
stranger. But even then the new thoughts of 
the age were at work within him. 

On the fly-leaf of his commonplace book Mil- 



46 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ton, Cicero, and Bacon are quoted in praise of 
philosophy, — Bacon's language being given 
with emphasis : " Life without pursuit is a vague 
and languid thing." " Cicero gives it as a high 
commendation to Cato that he embraced phi- 
losophy, not for the purpose of disputing, as 
most do, but of living philosophically" He 
had a remarkably fine library, containing many 
French and German books : much of Kant, 
Schleiermacher, Herder, De Wette, Cousin, 
Jouffroy; something of Hegel; Schopenhauer's 
" Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung " (1819) ; 
the latest known volumes of biblical criticism; 
Paulus, Bauer, Tholuck, Liicke ; Bertholdt's 
" Einleitung," Winer's " Handbuch der Theo- 
logischen Literatur," Bretschn eider, Ammon, 
Reinhard, Hitter ; histories of philosophy, both 
general and special ; Constant, Vico, Fichte, 
Cabanis, Eichhorn; a few books, now forgotten, 
about the origin of Christianity ; a little of Goe- 
the and Schiller, Luther's Werke, Baumgarten- 
Crusius; Heydenreicli's " Betrachtungen," and 
"Natur und Gott, nach Spinoza," Wieland's 
" Ueber Wunder,' Gfrorer's " Giordano Bruno," 
and miscellaneous works in morals and philoso- 
phy. Some of his books were imported, but 
many of them were brought from abroad by a 
young American, who studied divinity at Cam- 
bridge, became an enthusiastic disciple of Dr. 



PREACHING. 47 

Spurzheim, went to Germany to study anatomy, 
lost his Christian faith, returned to America, 
bringing a library with him, and, while still 
comparatively young, died in Boston. Mr. Rip- 
ley studied his books faithfully, and made his 
reading enrich his mind. None of the critical 
or metaphysical lore got into his sermons, which 
were simple, clear, calm, systematic, not elo- 
quent, but pervaded by a keen, lambent light, 
and in passages animated by a- singular intel- 
lectual glow, as of an aurora borealis. Two or 
three remain to us in manuscript. They breathe 
and convey the air of the new ideas, but are 
wholly destitute of controversial heat, and be- 
tray no sign of the existence of a different phi- 
losophy from his own. One of them, preached 
in 1837, entitled " Common Sense in the Affairs 
of Religion " (marked 419), assumes the pres- 
ence of a universal sentiment which guides men 
through the devious ways of faith, and delivers, 
or should deliver, them from the dangers that 
lurk in the path ; securing to them unanimity 
in opinion, liberty of conscience, a spirit of as- 
piration and progress, and a prevailing interest 
in spiritual things. The discourse ends with a 
noble strain of appeal in behalf of freedom in 
thought and life. Another sermon, on " Jesus 
Christ, the same Yesterday, To-day, and For- 
ever," contends that the history of man is a 



48 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

religious history ; that religious truths always 
have existed ; that " the religious ideas which 
were set forth by Jesus Christ, as they had 
been displayed before in other forms, still ex- 
ert an efficient influence on the soul of man ; " 
that, in their essential form, they will never 
cease to influence human souls. This was a 
favorite sermon. First preached in 1834, it 
was repeated in 1839, delivered nine or ten 
times to other congregations, given twice on 
Christmas occasions, once at an installation, 
once at O. A. Brownson's. It contains the sub- 
stance of Theodore Parker's sermon on the 
" Transient and Permanent in Christianity," 
but stated so luminously, persuasively, and in 
such uncritical terms as to awaken no dissent. 
It was the word of a hearty believer, uncon- 
cerned with the thankless task of denying, 
which was laid on the reformer of Spring Street. 
George Ripley was a disciple of the intuitive 
philosophy then coming into authority among 
liberal scholars in Europe and America. The phi- 
losophy called "transcendental," which claimed 
for human nature a spiritual faculty, by virtue 
of which truths of the spiritual order could be 
clearly discerned, was coming into favor. The 
assumption was precisely the opposite to that 
set up by theologians who maintained that spir- 
itual knowledge came from above by special 



TRANSCENDENTAL ISAf. 49 

grace, and was bestowed on believers as a sign 
of their redemption from the thraldom of the 
natural mind. That debased humanity ; this 
exalted it. That regarded man as depraved ; 
this regarded him as puissant. That classed 
human beings with the creatures of sin ; this 
ranked them with the angels. Transcendental- 
ism, in its full form, was a deification of Nature. 
But with its earliest teachers and prophets — 
Channing, Emerson, Walker, Ripley, Parker — 
it signified merely a new, broad, ideal faith, un- 
sectarian, spiritual, earnest. George Ripley be- 
lieved, without misgiving, in religion as a gift 
from heaven, and in Christianity as a divine 
communication to man. In the discourse to 
which reference has just been made, he says : 
" We can have no doubt that religion will al- 
ways be perpetuated by the same causes which 
first gave it existence. We regard it as an ema- 
nation from the Eternal Mind." u These attri- 
butes [eternity, unchangeableness] are applied 
to our Saviour, because his mind was so filled 
and penetrated with the power of religious truth 
as to be identical with it as existing in the Di- 
vine Mind, — as to be the Truth, as well as the 
way and the life." He constantly calls Christ 
" Saviour," speaking of him with deepest rev- 
erence as the highest of all the soul's proph- 
ets. His views on the subject of inspiration, 
4 



50 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

then beginning to agitate the thinking world, 
are expressed with clearness and candor in the 
remarkable review of Martineau's "Rationale 
of Religious Inquiry," published in the " Chris- 
tian Examiner " for November, 1836, — the 
same year, it may be observed, in which appeared 
the first volume of Norton's "Genuineness of the 
Gospels," and Furness's " Remarks on the Four 
Gospels." His position is that " necessary and 
universal truths " are divinely implanted in 
man's spiritual constitution, like the axioms of 
geometry, intuitively recognized as true. Touch- 
ing Christ, he writes : " His soul was a sea of 
light. All that was human in the Son of the 
Virgin ; all that belonged to his personality as 
a Jewish teacher ; all that marks the secondary, 
derived, and fallible in the nature of man, as 
distinguished from the primitive, the infallible, 
and divine, was swallowed up, and, as it were, 
annihilated in the fullness of the Spirit which 
dwelt in him, in those kingly ideas of Truth and 
Good which sustain the authority of the Eter- 
nal Throne, and authenticated the man of Naz- 
areth as the Son of God, the visible tabernacle 
of the Word which was made flesh and dwelt 
among us." 

These would be accepted now as moderate 
opinions, though when spoken they were pro- 
nounced dangerous. How far they were altered 



TRANSCENDENTALISM. 51 

or dropped in after life it would not be quite 
safe to say. The philosophical basis on which 
they rested remained unmoved to the end, as 
his papers in the " Tribune," especially his re- 
view of Bascom's " Comparative Psychology," 
will bear witness. In the summer of 1878 he 
read with great interest Hartmann's " Philos- 
ophy of the Unconscious," making notes as he 
read. These notes contain evidence, less in the 
form of actual expression than in the selection 
of passages quoted, of his adherence to the intu- 
itive system of thought. He was in no sense 
or degree a materialist, and, though connecting 
himself with an independent society of a decid- 
edly radical school, he held fast his faith in be- 
liefs which his minister dismissed. His appeal 
was still to consciousness and the soul. Of doc- 
trines he had little to say, being content to see 
them change and pass away, but the substance 
of spiritual conviction he retained to the last. 

Mr. Ripley called himself a child of Chan- 
ning, and so he was in the sense of sharing his 
essential views. Channing, too, was accused of 
"rash speculation," perhaps because he would 
utter words like the following : " We believe 
that the human mind is akin to that intellectual 
energy which gave birth to nature, and conse- 
quently that it contains within itself the sem- 
inal and prolific principles from which nat- 



52 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ure sprung." x A child of that great spiritual 
prophet — that sayer of thoughts which ex- 
pressed the spirit of his age, and stirred the 
souls of men on either side of the Atlantic Ocean 
— he certainly was not. He was lacking in the 
gift of thrilling speech. His convictions did not 
fall glowing from his lips. His ideas, though 
clear, cogent, and earnestly put forth, did no 
execution. In a small room, among personal 
friends, on his own themes, and following his 
own impulse, he was eloquent, persuasive, en- 
chanting ; but in a meeting-house, on a formal 
occasion, before a mixed audience, on imper- 
sonal subjects, he was unimpassioned, almost 
cold. He must have his hearer within arm's 
length ; then his full power was felt. Indi- 
vidually his parishioners were much attached 
to him. They found him delightful in their 
homes ; a true friend, sympathetic and consol- 
ing, more than ready in all cases of need with 
counsel and assistance. For many years after 
his ministry ceased, those who had known him 
as a pastor spoke of him with a depth of affec- 
tion which nothing but faithful service could 
justify or explain. A few still live to speak 
tender words in his memory. 

There is an impression abroad that Mr. Rip- 
ley was an uninteresting preacher, but such was 

1 Sermons, 1830, 8vo, p. 189. 



PREACHING. 53 

not the universal opinion. During a visit to 
Ohio in 1838, his discourses, especially those 
which he delivered without notes, excited great 
enthusiasm. Men of mark flocked about him, 
urged him to prolong his stay with them, spoke 
of his sermons as the finest they had ever list- 
ened to. One man, the agent of a canal com- 
pany, sent travelling passes to him and his wife. 
Another expressed his willingness to subscribe 
handsomely for the maintenance of such an ad- 
ministration of religion. Like many men, he 
felt the influence of new people and places, and 
spoke most winningly when " off duty." 

He was often called on to perform services 
for friends in the ministry. At the ordination 
of J. S. Dwight, at Northampton (May 20, 
1840), he preached on the " Claims of the Age 
on the Work of the Evangelist," saying, in the 
course of the sermon (it was on the eve of the 
Brook Farm experiment), "The true work of 
the evangelist at the present day is to bring the 
religion of society into accordance with the re- 
ligion of Christ." In 1837 he presented the 
fellowship of the churches to his young friend 
Theodore Parker. On the 4th of" July, 1839, 
he offered prayer at the public celebration in 
the Odeon. He was constant in his attendance 
at the ministers' meetings, and on all occasions 
of discussion or of conversation, in which mat- 



54 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ters of social, philosophical, or religious concern 
were brought up. At such times he was always 
listened to with interest, and easily held his 
own among eloquent, wise, instructed men. 
None were brighter, wittier, heartier, or more 
suggestive than he, always frank, always spark- 
ling. He was a member of the first transcend- 
ental coterie that met in Cambridge, the nu- 
cleus of all future organizations. 

The first meeting of the Transcendental Club 
was at his house, on the 19th of September, 
1836. There were present, beside the host, R. 
W. Emerson, F. H. Hedge, C. Francis, J. F. 
Clarke, and A. B. Alcott. It was a preliminary 
meeting, to see how far it might be possible for 
earnest minds to meet and communicate their 
thoughts without formality. At the second 
meeting, O. A. Brownson and C. A. Bartol 
were present. At that time theology was a 
theme of general interest and discussion. Dr. 
Beecher, Andrews Norton, Dr. Channing, were 
names on all lips. Mr. Emerson, in December, 
gave the first of a series of lectures in Boston, 
the subjects being "History," "Art," " Sci- 
ence," "Literature," "Politics," "Religion," 
" Society," " Trades and Professions," " Man- 
ners," " Ethics," " The Present Age " (two lect- 
ures). In 1837, Caleb Stetson, Theodore Par- 
ker, Margaret Fuller (who came to Boston to 



TRANSCENDENTAL CLUB. 55 

reside in 1836), and Elizabeth Peabody, were 
added to the club ; later, Thomas T. Stone 
joined it. It is worth noting that the Massa- 
chusetts Board of Education was established al- 
most contemporaneously with the club. At the 
meetings, Mr. Emerson was usually present; 
Mr. Hedge, too, before he went to Bangor. 
The topics debated turned on a few central 
ideas: Law, Truth, Individuality, the Person- 
ality of God. The last point came up in con- 
nection with matters pertaining to Theology, 
Revelation, Inspiration, Providence. An ex- 
treme reaction from Puritan conceptions set in, 
leading some to the verge of pantheism, and to 
a belief in the sufficiency of the human mind 
to itself, in all emergencies. The conversation 
was at all times earnest and elevated, though 
there was warm discussion over some of the 
views submitted. 

Theodore Parker describes Mr. Ripley at this 
time as discussing, along with Dr. Channing, 
M with great power of thought and richness of 
eloquence," the question of the progress of civ- 
ilization. " Had the conversation of this even- 
ing," he records, " been written out by Plato, it 
would equal any of his beautiful dialogues." 
The conversation referred to was held in the 
rooms of Mr. Jonathan Phillips, at the Tremont 
House. At a subsequent meeting Mr. Ripley 



56 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

is instanced as taking exception to the imper- 
sonal conception of God put forth by Mr. Em- 
erson in a remarkable lecture. This was in 
February, 1838. Theodore Parker was intro- 
duced to Mr. Ripley by his classmate, George 
E. Ellis. An intimacy grew up which continued 
close till Parker's death, though their ministe- 
rial connection was short. The two were drawn 
together by a deeply rooted sympathy in phil- 
osophical ideas, by a common philanthropical 
aim, and by an irrepressible buoyancy of spirit. 
They walked and talked by the day. In 1838, 
in the early time of Parker's ministry, Ripley 
and his wife spent a week with him at West 
Roxbury. The visit was remembered fondly 
many years afterward. " We were full of joy 
and laughter all the time of their visit." When 
lying ill in Boston, after a surgical operation, 
Parker wrote, November 1, 1858 : " Many thanks 
for your friendship, which never fails. If we 
could lie under the great oak-tree at West Rox- 
bury, or ride about its wild little lanes together, 
I should soon be entirely well, for the vigor 
of your mind would inspire strength even into 
my body. But I must do without that, only 
too thankful to have had it once." Almost 
a year later, January 10, 1859, the mortally 
sick man wrote in pencil from his bed in Exe- 
ter Place: "Many thanks, my dear George, to 



THEODORE PARKER. 57 

you. I never told you the service you rendered 
me in 1836 — and so on. Your words of advice, 
of profound philosophic thought, and still more, 
of lofty cheer, did me great good. I count your 
friendship as one of the brightest spots in my 
life, which has had a deal of handsome sun- 
shine. God bless you." 

They were very different men. One was en- 
grossed in books ; the other was full of action. 
One was contemplative, quiet, thoughtful ; the 
other was impetuous. One was silent ; the 
other was outspoken. One was cautious to the 
verge of timidity ; the other was bold to the 
verge of rashness. One was a thinker, taking 
no part in agitation, political or social ; the other 
was a reformer, eager to apply his ideas to laws 
and institutions. But their faith in one an- 
other was constant. The following letters show 
how Parker's love was reciprocated. 

Tribune Office, N. Y., February 28, 1856. 
My dear Theodore, — The new edition of your 
brave book came to hand yesterday, and need I say 
your friendly and tender words did not fail to touch 
my heart. Certain it is that from my first acquaint- 
ance with you, my sympathy was won by your ro- 
bust devotion to truth, and your cordial, overflowing 
geniality ; but that you could have ever received any 
encouragement in your lofty career from one so dis- 
tant from your orbit, would be incredible to those 



58 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

who did not know that you combine a woman's soft- 
ness of feeling with your manly " heart of oak." But 
let that be as it may, our friendship has weathered 
many a winter and summer, and only grown brighter 
from the test of time ; and it is always a pleasant 
thought to me when I reflect on how little I have 
brought to pass for my day and generation, that at 
least I have been loyal to the principles of truth and 
freedom, which have ripened in you to such a bounti- 
ful harvest of accomplishment. I can sincerely say 
that I rejoice in your success as if it had been my 
own ; and perhaps you will not deem it strange if I 
tell you how perpetually grateful I am to you for 
presenting to the world an example of a true man, in 
the midst of the dwarfs, mountebanks, satyrs, and 
monkeys, which make modern society so mean and 
false and hollow and repulsive. 

I have scarcely looked into your volume, and 
probably should not find my ancient interest in its 
contents. I cannot digest any religion but the wor- 
ship of the Eternal Word, as expounded in many 
" colloquies divine " with you ; but how little man is 
prepared for such a pure faith, I am too deeply sensi- 
ble. Still, if the world is not an audacious " quiz of 
nature," as Emerson holds, I think all creeds must 
ultimately be merged in this " positive," or, as you 
would say, " absolute " religion. 

I depend on seeing you next week, and presume 
our hospitable and reverential Brace has a breakfast 
in contemplation. 

Good-by, and believe me ever faithfully yours, 

George Ripley. 



F. P. COB BE. 59 

Office of the N. Y. Tribune, October 25, 1858. 

My dear Theodore, — I truly rejoice that you 
are able to report so good an account of yourself. 
Heaven send that your complete cure may be as 
speedy and effectual as your best friends could wish. 
How I regret that I have no nice country house, in 
which I could tempt you to spend the languid hours 
of convalescence, and return (not' repay) your kind- 
ness to me on a similar occasion, just twenty years 
ago next summer. It was only the other day my 
wife was speaking of our enjoyment of that little epi- 
sode, which was, in fact, the causal and immediate 
antecedent of Brook Farm, with all its wondrous ex- 
periences. 

I have looked pretty carefully into the " Intuitive 
Morals. " It is a remarkable production for any one, 
especially for a woman, and a British woman. She 
sees clearly the absolute character of the primary 
idea of right, and argues the question manfully. Her 
logic is as genuine as her learning, which is almost 
unique. The second volume is a falling off ; but it 
is only the change from pure theory to application, 
in which minds of her cast seldom do their best. 
You are happy to know such a person. She cannot 
be frowzy and snuffy, like some lady theologians on 
our side of the water. 

Don't let your amanuensis forget me, but keep me 
supplied with bulletins ; and with kind remembrance 
to your household saints, believe me yours ever, 

George Ripley. 



60 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Xew York, January 15, 1859. 

My dear Theodore, — You were very kind to 
write to nie from your sick-bed, which I trust will 
soon be changed into the couch of convalescence. 
With your great fund of vitality I cannot but antici- 
pate a speedy restoration to your usual labors ; but I 
am sure you cannot be anxious on this point, as you 
have already done such a day's work in the harvest 
of humanity, and even in the midst of life have gath- 
ered such a store of autumn sheaves. 

Whether you go to the West Indies or to Europe, 
or to some Ultima Thule yet more unknown, you will 
be followed by the benedictions and grateful sympa- 
thies of many loving hearts, who have received from 
you their first impulses to truly divine and beautiful 
things. 

My wife bids me give you her kindest remem- 
brances, and the assurance of ancient friendship, 
while I remain, dear Theodore, ever your faithful 
friend, George Ripley. 

Before Parker's controversial period began 
his friend had left the ministry. At the time 
of their first acquaintance the future heresiarch 
was unsuspected. He was writing diligently in 
" The Examiner " about Cud worth, Sir Thomas 
More, St. Bernard, Olshausen, Gesenius, Du 
Cange, Matter's " Gnosticism," and other 
saintly or scholastic matters. A literary no- 
tice of works, then recently published in Ger- 
many (May, 1839), reports a third edition of 



MINISTRY. 61 

Strauss's " Leben Jesu," also an essay by Strauss 
on the " Transient and Permanent in Christian- 
ity/' printed in a periodical called the u Frei- 
hafen." Parker's article on Strauss in " The 
Examiner" for July, 1840, is unnecessarily 
conservative. Strauss's method is turned to 
ridicule by being applied to the history of 
American Independence. " The Examiner " for 
January, 1839, contains a paper by Parker on 
Ackerman's " Christliche in Plato," the tone of 
which is not merely conservative but highly 
eulogistic of the peculiar excellences of the 
Christian religion. 

During this period Ripley was doing his best 
to make his own ministry effective, by promot- 
ing interest among the members of his society 
in each other, in the Unitarian cause, in gen- 
eral charity. But all efforts were vain ; noth- 
ing succeeded. The situation of the meeting- 
house was unfortunate ; the neighborhood de- 
teriorated ; money fell short ; the minister had 
misgivings in regard to his fitness for profes- 
sional work. The correspondence printed below 
explains the situation, and prepares for the next 
step in a new career. 

Northampton, May 21, 1840. 

My respected Friends, — I learn with regret 
that the pecuniary affairs of the church are not in a 
prosperous condition. I also understand that the 



62 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

means of providing funds to meet the expenses is 
now the subject of discussion. 

Under these circumstances I feel that it is due both 
to you and myself, to express my own views with the 
perfect frankness which has always marked our in- 
tercourse. 

Our connection was formed in the beginning with 
a full view of the difficulties which it involved ; the 
most sanguine friends of the church were not con- 
fident of success ; and on the whole I do not know 
that our prosperity has been less than we had reason 
to anticipate. There have always, however, been 
many discouragements ; and at times these have been 
so great, that nothing but a sense of the kindness I 
have received at your hands, and the conviction that 
my best endeavors were due to you so long as they 
were desired, has prevented me from requesting to be 
discharged from your service. 

I cannot then avoid deeming this the proper occa- 
sion to say that if the support of my office should be 
thought burdensome or inexpedient in the deliberate 
judgment of your body and the society which you 
represent, it would be my desire to relinquish it. If 
your interests can be better promoted by other hands, 
I wish that they may assume that trust. I have now 
labored with you for nearly fourteen years ; I have 
done what I could to accomplish the purposes of our 
connection ; and under the present relation it is not 
likely that my ministry can be essentially different 
from what it has been ; I do not feel that I can do 
more in the time to come than I have done in the 
time past. 



MINISTR V. 63 

"With these convictions, I am bound to give you 
the option of preserving the present connection. It 
must be a matter of free will and of good will on 
both sides, or it can be productive of no pleasant 
fruits. I beg, therefore, that you will discuss the 
subject as far as you shall deem it necessary, with the 
same freedom as if the question were now to be taken 
on my settlement for the first time. 

In making this communication, I trust too much to 
your candor to suppose that it will be ascribed to a 
weariness with my duties or a want of attachment 
to my society. I wish to consult the common good, 
without peculiar reference to myself. On former 
occasions I have felt bound to you by ties which I 
could not prevail on myself to break. This same 
feeling remains on my part ; but I shall cheerfully 
adopt a different course if I were persuaded that it 
would meet your wishes or be for your advantage ; 
and in whatever sphere I might be placed, I should 
not cease to rejoice in your welfare and to be grate- 
ful for your friendship. 

With sincere regard, I am, my respected friends, 
Your faithful and affectionate servant, 

Geo. Ripley. 

My dear Friends, — You were informed on the 
last Lord's Day that I should take this opportunity 
to present to you a communication in regard to the 
correspondence which was held in the month of May 
last, between the proprietors of the church and my- 
self. I had thought that this course was due to you 



64 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

on account of your personal interest in the subject, 
and of the intrinsic fitness that you should be fully 
informed of everything that belongs to the pastoral 
relation, which you help to sustain. It is those who 
attend upon his preaching with whom the minister 
has the most intimate concern ; he knows no distinc- 
tion in the body of worshippers between proprietors 
and others ; but the moment a family or an individ- 
ual becomes a part of his congregation, a spiritual 
relation is established between him and their souls. 
I accordingly address this communication to you, 
with the assurance that you will listen to it with 
the same candor with which you have always re- 
ceived the frankest disclosures of my mind from this 
place. 

In my letter to the proprietors of the church, in 
May, I made use of the following language : " If the 
support of my office should be thought burdensome 
or inexpedient in the deliberate judgment of your 
body and the society which you represent, it would 
be my desire to relinquish it. If your interests can 
be better promoted by other hands, I wish that they 
may assume the trust. I have now labored with you 
for nearly fourteen years ; I have done what I could 
to accomplish the purpose of our connection, and, 
under the present relation, it is not likely that my 
ministry can be essentially different from what it has 
been. I do not feel that I can do more in the time 
to come than I have in the time past. With this con- 
viction, I am bound to give you the option of pre- 
serving our present connection. It must be a matter 



MINISTRY. 65 

of free-will and of good-will on both sides, or it can 
be productive of no pleasant fruits. I beg, therefore, 
that you will discuss the subject, so far as you shall 
deem it necessary, with the same freedom as if the 
question were now to be taken on my settlement for 
the first time." I was induced to make this state- 
ment, my friends, from a conviction that your pros- 
perity as a society could not be greatly increased by 
my labors, under the arrangements which now exist 
in most of our churches. I had met you for many 
years from Sunday to Sunday ; the thoughts and 
feelings, which were perhaps new to many of you 
when first presented, had lost much of their fresh- 
ness ; my own mind had ceased to take a deep inter- 
est in many points which we had fully considered 
with each other ; while at the same time I was aware 
there were others in which I had a deep concern, 
which had failed to attract your attention. I was 
called upon, notwithstanding, to address nearly the 
same individuals, to pursue the same track on which 
we had long traveled together, to use great diligence 
lest I should depart from the usual sphere of the pul- 
pit, and touch on subjects which, by the general con- 
sent of our churches, are banished from the ordinary 
meeting of our public assemblies on the Lord's Day. 
Such a course must always be productive of depres- 
sion and embarrassment. Unless a minister is ex- 
pected to speak out on all subjects w 7 hich are upper- 
most in his mind, with no fear of incurring the charge 
of heresy or compromising the interests of his con- 
gregation, he can never do justice to himself, to his 
5 



66 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

people, or the truth which he is bound to declare. If 
it is virtually understood that he is to confine himself 
to a certain round of familiar topics, that he is to ab- 
stain from what are called exciting subjects, from all 
points on which his hearers may be presumed greatly 
to differ, he can never speak with the earnestness and 
life which become the messenger who bears the Word 
of God on his lips. I was fully sensible that I was 
suffering from this influence ; that I had not strength 
to resist the formality and coldness which are breathed 
from the atmosphere of our churches ; and that, un- 
less we could all break away from such influences, it 
was wholly in vain for me to speak any longer in this 
pulpit. It was my wish, therefore, to leave you per- 
fectly free to make such arrangements as would con- 
duce to your highest welfare. I thought that a 
chancre in the administration of religion here would 
be for our mutual advantage. I did not feel at lib- 
erty to propose any important alterations in the prin- 
ciples on which our worship was conducted, while at 
the same time I was certain that without some change 
my ministry among you could not be carried on with 
any vital power. 

I will confess, also, that I was somewhat influenced 
in the conclusion at which I had arrived by the pres- 
ent aspect of the times. This is very different from 
what it was when I became your minister. In 1826 
the Unitarian controversy was in the ascendant. It 
excited general interest ; questions of dogmatic the- 
ology were in every one's mouth ; and a popular ex- 
position of the arguments from reason and Scripture 



MINISTRY. 67 

in favor of liberal views always commanded general 
attention. At the same time, inquiries relating to 
personal religion were not infrequent; many were 
aroused from the slumber of worldliness and sin ; for 
the first time, religion became a subject of vast and 
solemn import to their souls ; and the plainest and 
most elementary instruction on the duties of the 
Christian life were everywhere welcome. That was 
a good state of things. It promised well for the fut- 
ure. It awakened the brightest hopes in regard to 
the practical influence of religion in the community ; 
to the spread of the pure, disinterested, and lovely 
spirit of charity in the various relations of society ; 
to the visible exhibition of freedom and holiness in 
the lives of those who had been born from above, 
and who seemed to share largely in the divine power 
of the truths which they had embraced. But this 
state of things it seems could not last forever. It 
passed away, and a new order of ideas was brought 
forward. The essential principles of liberal Chris- 
tianity, as I had always understood them, made re- 
ligion to consist, not in any speculative doctrine, but 
in a divine life. They asserted the unlimited free- 
dom of the human mind, and not only the right, but 
the duty of private judgment. They established the 
kingdom of God, not in the dead past, but in the 
living present ; gave the spirit a supremacy over the 
letter ; insisted on the necessity of pointing out the 
corruptions of the church, of sweeping away the 
traditions which obscured the simplicity of truth, 
and urged every soul to press on to the highest at- 



68 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

tainment ; to forget what was behind, and never to 
be kept back from expressing its convictions by the 
voice of authority or the fear of man. A portion 
of the liberal clergy felt it their duty to carry out 
these views ; to be faithful to their principles ; not to 
shrink from their application, but to exercise the free- 
dom which God gave them in the investigation of 
truth and the enforcement of its practical results. 
They could not linger around the grave of the past. 
The experiences of manhood enlarged the conception 
of their pupilage. They had been taught that no 
system of divinity monopolized the truth, and they 
were no more willing to be bound by the prevailing 
creed of Boston or Cambridge, than their fathers had 
been by the prescription of Rome or Geneva. But 
in these conclusions they were divided from some of 
their brethren. It was thought dangerous to con- 
tinue the progress which had been commenced. Lib- 
eral churches began to fear liberality, and the most 
heretical sect in Christendom to bring the charge of 
being so against those who carried out its own princi- 
ples. They who defended the progress as well as 
the freedom of thought were openly denounced as 
infidels ; various unintelligible names were applied 
to them ; and, instead of judging the tree by its 
fruits, and acknowledging the name of Christian to 
all who possessed Christ's spirit and claimed to have 
received his revelation, men appealed to the prejudices 
of the multitude, and sought to destroy the religious 
influence of their brethren, on account of the specu- 
lative opinions which they sincerely believed to be 



MINISTRY. 69 

true and Christian. Now it was with this latter class 
that I always found myself. I had a native aversion 
to human authority for the soul ; truth seemed to me 
to be supernatural, and our own perception limited. 
I could not stand still ; I had faith in man and in 
God, and never felt the slightest alarm lest the light 
from above should lead into paths of danger. But I 
soon found that this spirit could not pass without re- 
buke. The plainest expositions of Christian truth, 
as it seemed to me, were accused of heresy. Every 
idea which did not coincide with prevailing opinions, 
and many which had heretofore always been received 
by liberal ehnrches, were considered hostile to church 
and state, were spoken of under various appellations 
which no man understood, and this caused the unin- 
itiated to fear and the good to grieve. 

Under these circumstances, my friends. I was un- 
willing that you should be forced to share in the 
odium which might attach to the heresies of your 
minister. I knew that subjects of philosophical in- 
quiry could scarce be made interesting or even intel- 
ligible to a popular audience ; that the pulpit was no 
place for them ; and hence, though I have always 
stated with as much distinctness as I could the re- 
sults of my investigation that related to religion, you 
will bear me witness that I have not often brought 
abstract questions before you; that I have spared you 
the class of subjects that belong to the student rather 
than to the practical church, and which have no bear- 
ing on the imprint of the character, or the regener- 
ation of the soul. For this reason, I felt that you 



70 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

were entitled to the perfect freedom of judging 
whether any reputed heresies had impaired the influ- 
ence of my preaching ; and that, if you suffered from 
the effect of any change, of which I was unconscious 
myself, you might have an opportunity to declare it. 
I knew that my own opinion was the same as when 
I entered the ministry ; the views which I cherished 
of the Scriptures, of Jesus Christ, of the nature of 
man, of the character of religion, of the condition of 
society, were identical with those which I have ever 
maintained since I began to think for myself ; but 
the experience of several years has no doubt enlarged 
and confirmed them, given them a deeper hold on my 
mind, led me to perceive their importance more in- 
tensely, shown me the practical conclusions which a 
sound logic draws from them, has made me more and 
more desirous to communicate them to others, and 
to insist on their application to social reform and the 
advancement of the age. If these facts had influ- 
enced the general tone of my preaching, made me a 
different man from what I was when you first knew 
me, or in any respects estranged me from your sym- 
pathies, I knew that our further connection would be 
of no utility, and that justice and candor alike de- 
manded an opportunity for explanation. I wanted 
you to understand me precisely as I am, to know the 
interest I felt in the movements of the day, which are 
met by some with frowns and by others with ridicule, 
and by all perhaps with something of that undefined 
fear, which any new expression of thought is apt to 
excite in minds that have no sense of the conflicts by 
which truth is ever won. 



MINISTRY. 71 

There is still another circumstance which had no 
small weight in leading me to the decision which I 
announced. I felt that though in many respects I 
could rejoice in the fruit of my labors, though you 
bore every external mark of being a prosperous and 
flourishing society, though my words had not fallen 
actually on the ground, but had found access to the 
hearts of some among you, yet I had failed in pro- 
ducing the effects, which, it appears to me, are the 
best results of the ministry, and without which, no 
minister can feel that he fills a noble or a manly 
sphere. I have always endeavored to awaken and 
cherish a spirit of mental independence, a love of re- 
ligious progress, a desire for every man and woman 
to see the truth with their own eyes and not anoth- 
er's, and to regard the worship of God in spirit and in 
truth as of more importance than any external com- 
pliance. I have had no wish but to see the growth 
of pure, upright, just, generous, and aspiring souls, 
as the fruit of my labors. Hence you will know that 
I have never attempted to play the priest in your 
church or your houses. I have had no faith in the 
mock solemnity which is sometimes assumed for ef- 
fect. I have been as unwilling to exercise the author- 
ity which is supposed to belong to the clerical profes- 
sion, as to permit its exercise on myself ; my whole 
soul shrinks from it either way. I would neither be 
a despot nor a slave ; but I have lived with you as a 
man with men, as a friend, a brother, an equal, dis- 
claiming any means of influence but those which grow 
out of sincerity of purpose and the faithful exposition 



72 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

of truth. It has been my desire, from the first mo- 
ment of our connection until this time, to lead you to 
think for yourselves. I have endeavored to set an 
example of this in my own character. I have al- 
ways maintained that whatever else a minister might 
do for his people he could not make his own thought, 
or prayer, or good life, a substitute for theirs ; they 
must take the task into their own hands, and work 
out their own salvation with fear and trembling. 
Hence, I have been content with the distinct exhibi- 
tion of truth ; popular excitement has never been my 
aim. I have felt that I have * done all I could do 
when I had presented a subject in its various bear- 
ings to the intelligence and higher sentiments of my 
hearers. This course, I am aware, has not met with 
the approbation of all. A more authoritative and 
zealous mode of preaching has been desired by some 
individuals ; they would have the days of the old 
priesthood restored, when the clergyman trusted 
more to his office than to his words, and advanced 
his opinions as oracles to be submitted to rather than 
as suggestions to be weighed and considered. I am 
not sure but that they are right in their views. It 
may be the case that the pulpit does depend for its 
efficacy on its elevation above the common herd ; 
that men cannot be addressed from it as equals or 
friends ; that something more than simplicity, ear- 
nestness, and good sense, are required to act upon 
our congregation ; and that it is in vain to trust to 
natural feeling without artificial excitement. But if 
this be the fact, I can only say that I deeply regret 



MINISTRY. 73 

it. If it be an objection that a man speaks in the 
pulpit, as men speak anywhere else, on subjects that 
deeply interest them, the true man will soon find that 
he can speak more to the purpose in some other 
place. It has moreover always been one of my firm- 
est convictions, that we meet in the church on the 
broadest ground of spiritual equality. The true fol- 
lowers of Jesus are a band of brothers ; they compose 
one family ; they attach no importance whatever to 
the petty distinctions of birth, rank, wealth, and sta- 
tion ; but feeling that they are one in the pursuit of 
truth, in the love of holiness, and in the hope of im- 
mortal life, they regard the common differences of the 
world, by which men are separated from each other, 
£s lighter than the dust of the balance. They look 
on each other with mutual respect and honor ; they 
have no struggle for preeminence ; they have no de- 
sire for the chief seats in the synagogue, nor greet- 
ings in the markets and the streets ; and the poor 
widow, who leaves the daily toil by which a suffer- 
ing family is kept from want, to gather with the faith- 
ful in the house of worship, is welcomed with as warm 
a sympathy, and regarded with as sincere affection, 
and treated with just as much respect, as they who 
are arrayed in costly robes, and who come from the 
heights of office or the abodes of luxury, to look up 
to the common Father, in whose sight a pure heart 
and clean hands are alone of value. These ideas I 
have perhaps insisted on more strongly than any 
others, for they have been near my heart ; they are 
a part of my life ; they seem to me to be the very 



74 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

essence of the religion which I was taught. The 
great fact of human equality before God is not one 
to let the heart remain cold ; it is not a mere specu- 
lative abstraction ; it is something more than a watch- 
word for a political party to gain power with, and 
then do nothing to carry it into practical operation ; 
it is a deep, solemn, vital truth, written by the Al- 
mighty in the laws of our being, announced with ter- 
rible distinctness to the oppressor by his beloved Son, 
and pleaded for by all that is just and noble in the 
promptings of our nature. Blame me for it if you 
will, but I cannot behold the degradation, the igno- 
rance, the poverty, the vice, the ruin of the soul, 
which is everywhere displayed in the very bosom of 
Christian society in our own city, while men look idly 
on, without a shudder. I cannot witness the glaring 
inequalities of condition, the hollow pretension of 
pride, the scornful apathy with which many urge the 
prostration of man, the burning zeal with which they 
run the race of selfish competition, with no thought 
for the elevation of their brethren, without the sad 
conviction that the spirit of Christ has well-nigh dis- 
appeared from our churches, and that the fearful 
doom awaits us, " Inasmuch as ye have not done it 
unto one of the least of these, ye have not done it 
unto me." 

But with these feelings, I fear, I have had little 
sympathy. They have not beeu understood. They 
have been regarded as bearing on political struggles, 
or having reference to party strife ; and this earnest 
defense in public and in private has been construed 



MINISTRY. 75 

into a zeal for questions with which I have had no 
concern, and connected me with movements from 
which I have always stood aloof. The defense of 
humanity is sometimes considered an attack on soci- 
ety ; a sense of the evil of prevalent systems a reflec- 
tion on the character of the men who sustain them ; 
and the ardent desire to see every one aid in the dig- 
nity of an immortal soul, sharing all the benefits 
which circumstances permit, be possessed of the 
means of the highest spiritual culture, and not des- 
titute of any of the many comforts of life, is con- 
founded with the measure of the politician or the in- 
trigue of the demagogue. In common with many 
others, I know that I have been misunderstood in 
this matter. I make no account of this fact in refer- 
ence to myself ; but when a minister of the gospel 
cannot show by his life and conduct, by his word and 
his works, that he is hostile to all oppression of man 
by man, that he values moral worth more than out- 
ward condition, that he regards the indulgence of 
pride as a sin against the Holy Ghost, and that all 
his sympathies are with the down-trodden and suffer- 
ing poor, without impairing the influence of his la- 
bors, I feel that it is time to look at the foundation 
on which we stand, and see if it does not suffer from 
some defect which threatens its destruction. 

With such convictions, my friends, I addressed to 
the proprietors of the church the letter which has 
led to the present communication. I was persuaded 
that we must sooner or later come to a fair under- 
standing with each other. I was aware that there 



76 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

were certain views on which we did not probably co- 
incide ; and believing that no church, under our pres- 
ent arrangements, admitted that perfect liberty of 
thought and expression which I must ever prize as a 
part of the human birthright, and which is essential 
to all noble and effective utterance, if I had felt my- 
self at liberty so to do, I should have asked at once 
to be discharged from your service. But this liberty 
I did not feel. I have considered myself bound by 
no common ties to this society. I came here in the 
inexperience of early youth, called from the retire- 
ment and ignorance of a literary life, to form a new 
congregation, with no external aid in my favor, but 
with many discouraging circumstances to contend 
with, and often made to perceive that the responsi- 
bilities of the station were greater than I could easily 
sustain. Nothing could have sustained me but a firm 
reliance on God, and the undeviating kindness and 
friendship which I have enjoyed, with scarce an ex- 
ception, from every individual who has shared in my 
ministry. As minister and society we have grown 
up together ; we have neither of us known any other 
pastoral relation, and have stood by each other. I 
have surely spared no pains to do you whatever good 
was in my power ; and I rejoice to testify here in this 
place that you have ever been faithful and true to 
me ; and that I would not accept the ministry over 
any congregation I am acquainted with, in exchange 
for that which I now bear. The friendships which I 
have formed with many of you are such as few en- 
joy ; the intimate acquaintance which I have shared 



MINISTRY. 77 

with all who permitted me this privilege has been a 
source of the richest satisfaction. I have never en- 
tered your doors without being welcomed with ex- 
pressions of regard. Your familiar intercourse with 
my household, in days of gladness and of grief, I 
have deemed one of my brightest honors ; while the 
remembrance of those with whom I have gone down 
to the dark valley, whose children, parents, and the 
companions of their life I now speak to, seem to 
entwine a new cord around my heart, and to stay 
my lingering steps, as their benignant faces still 
hover in our season of worship, and the green sods 
have not yet faded upon their graves. 

It seemed to me, accordingly, that I was bound to 
take the course which I had decided on ; to leave 
you the freedom of releasing me if you chose to do 
so ; that I could not retire from the post where you 
had placed me, until I saw clearly that such a step 
would be without injury to you or dishonor to myself. 

The letter which was addressed to me by the pro- 
prietors, by whom you are represented, was of a char- 
acter to call for my distinct and grateful acknowledg- 
ments. To say that I received it without a sense of 
the kindness and esteem by which it was dictated, 
would indicate an insensibility which I do not claim 
to possess. In that letter the following language is 
employed, in reply to the communication which I had 
made : " We hope that you will consent to continue 
as our pastor, and that we may receive from your 
official character those lessons of instruction which 
we value, and in our social relations those marks of 



78 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

kind regard and consolation in private affliction which 
you are so eminently adapted to give, and which al- 
ways have been so given as to require our utmost 
thanks. We beg leave to assure you that we think 
the continuance of the society in Purchase Street 
mainly depends on your continuance as pastor, and 
that, should you leave, a considerable portion of those 
who have longest been with you, and who have a 
strong attachment to your character, would also leave ; 
and should these events take place, we do not now 
perceive how the remainder of the society could, with- 
out any considerable accession of numbers, grant that 
support to a pastor which duty and justice would 
seem to require of them. In closing this communi-. 
cation, we are sure that we should do our constitu- 
ents great injustice, did we not assure you of their 
great personal regard, and that our own regard is no 
less ardent. We therefore hope and trust that you 
may be listened to in future with the same pleasure 
and interest with which you were heard in the com- 
mencement of your ministry." 

The views thus expressed, my friends, were con- 
firmed in full and free conversations which I sought 
for with the individual members of your committee. 
Their statements, as you will perceive, present the 
subject in a somewhat different aspect from that in 
which I had considered it, and throw upon me a re- 
sponsibility which I should be reluctant to assume. 
They seem to furnish the same reasons in a stronger 
light for my remaining as your pastor, which had be- 
fore prevented me from asking you for a discharge. 



MINISTRY. 79 

They place me in a condition in which I could not 
withdraw from your service without appearing negli- 
gent of your wishes and regardless of your welfare. 
At the same time, they do not convince me that the 
permanent continuance of my ministry with you 
would insure even your external prosperity as a soci- 
ety. I am still of the opinion that the service which 
is desired could be more effectually performed by 
other hands than mine. I am unwilling, however, to 
break from you abruptly, to leave you in a state 
which might terminate in the slightest injury, or to 
neglect the opportunity of giving a fair trial to the 
success of my ministry, under the conditions which I 
shall state. I accordingly consent to comply with the 
suggestions in the letter of your committee, and to 
continue the pastoral relation with the distinct under- 
standing that it shall be for a limited period. If at 
the expiration of one year from this time, or at any 
earlier date, it should seem that the obstacles to my 
removal have ceased to exist, I shall then respectfully 
solicit you to accept the resignation of my office, and 
I know of nothing but the most resistless conviction 
that the contrary course would be my duty, that is 
likely to change this determination. Meantime, I 
wish to renounce, and I hereby do renounce, all 
claims upon you for the fulfillment of any pecuniary 
contract, as I shall consent to receive nothing from 
the funds of the society which is not a perfectly vol- 
untary contribution on the part of every individual 
by whom it is paid. 

This leads me to speak of another circumstance, 



80 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

which must always embarrass the relations between 
minister and people, under our existing arrangements. 
I mean the inducement for the owner of a pew to 
continue a member of a religious society after he has 
lost his interest in the worship. No spiritual rela- 
tion can be sincere and efficacious which does not 
rest on the most perfect freedom. The moment you 
feel obliged to attend on a religious service, without 
any inward sympathy, the service can do you no 
good. There should not be the shade of a restraint 
on any worshiper, which prevents him from seeking 
such influences as are most congenial to his tastes, 
and adapted to his moral and intellectual wants. 
The minister should feel that the persons whom he 
addresses have come around him through interest in 
his words, and whenever that interest ceases they 
should be able to depart as freely as they came. This 
would greatly increase the life and animation of our 
public services. The speaker would have nothing to 
do but to declare the word which pressed for utter- 
ance, and in the manner which his own nature best 
permitted ; the dread of injuring a hearer would 
never tempt him to modify his thoughts ; for no man 
who heard what was without interest for him would 
be forced to come a second time. The freedom of 
the speaker and the freedom of the hearer, which 
are each equally important, would thus be secured ; 
no man would suffer in his property from the convic- 
tions of the preacher ; misunderstandings would be 
less frequent ; and the ties which bound the society 
together would be of a purer and stronger character 



MINISTRY. 81 

than those which now exist. At present in all our 
churches, many are retained by their property in the 
house, not by their interest in the preacher. They 
have heard all he has to say, and it is certainly just 
that they should have no temptation to continue 
when they are not edified. 

For my own part, I have long been persuaded that 
we should offer a more spiritual worship, enjoy a 
more sincere communion with each other, and find 
our Sabbath services far more attractive and fruitful, 
were all such restrictions removed, even if we came 
together as the disciples did, in a large upper room, 
in a fisher's boat, or by the shore of the sea. The 
minister should take his stand where he can freely 
speak out all that is in his soul. He would be joined 
by those who find that he addresses a powerful and 
living word to their hearts, who are helped by him in 
their endeavors after a just and truthful life, and are 
drawn by a spiritual affinity with the message he de- 
clares, and who are too desirous that the truth of 
God should prevail to think of its external, tempo- 
rary effects. Such an assembly would constitute the 
true church of the first-born. It would consist of 
those who are united by no other tie than faith in 
divine things ; by the desire to cultivate the holiest 
principles of our nature, — reverence, justice, and 
love ; to ascertain and follow the laws of Providence 
in the constitution of the inner spirit and of the out- 
ward world ; and to convert the jarring elements of 
earth into materials for a pure, serene, and joyful life. 

The basis of worship in such a church would be 
6 



82 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

feeling, not speculation ; the platform would be broad 
enough to welcome every seeking spirit, in whatever 
stage of its progress it might be ; all should be en- 
couraged, none should be excluded ; and especially 
they who are yet feeling after God, if haply they 
may find him, should be taken by the hand, not 
driven from the fold. This* would leave the investi- 
gation of truth entirely free. The sincerest convic- 
tions could be uttered without dread or misgiving. 
We should meet, not as having attained, but as learn- 
ers ; of course, every ray of light would be sought, 
not shunned ; we should let the dead past bury its 
dead ; we should look on life and truth with young 
eyes ; and thus seeking to be as little children, we 
should enter the Kingdom of God, and we should 
know where we were by the divine peace and joy with 
which our hearts would overflow. In such a church 
there could be no cold or formal preaching. The in- 
struction would be the overflowing of an individual 
soul ; there would be no aim at effect. The topics of 
discourse would be taken from the experience of life ; 
they would embrace the widest range of thought, and 
the more exciting and Soul-stirring the better. The 
infinite Bible of the Universe would be the text-book, 
and whatever the soul feels or forbodes, the commen- 
tary. 

But so long as the questions which relate to the 
highest truth and duty, though discussed everywhere 
else, are virtually excluded from the pulpit ; so long 
as the minister is expected to adapt himself to the 
state of the times, to popular opinion and prevailing 



MINISTRY. 83 

prejudices ; so long as he is valued more for his 
plausible and obliging spirit than for his fearless re- 
buke of sin and detection of error, we may be lulled 
into treacherous slumber by the services of the church, 
but they can never accomplish their purpose in arous- 
ing the guilty from their sleep of death, pouring light 
over the darkened mind, and advancing the reign of 
truth, justice, and love over the kingdoms of men. 

This idea of social worship can be carried into effect 
only in a congregation where there is a prevailing 
harmony of sentiment between the people and the 
minister ; where the questions which most interest 
his mind are those which they are also most desirous 
to hear discussed ; where the arrangements of the so- 
ciety allow the most perfect freedom of departure to 
all who have ceased to be interested in the views that 
are advanced. Whenever the attention of the min- 
ister is strongly drawn to subjects which are not 
regarded as important by the hearer, the free, sympa- 
thetic chain which binds heart with heart is disturbed, 
no electric spark is drawn forth, the speaker loses his 
power, and the people are not moved. 

Now this is precisely the position which one por- 
tion of our community holds towards another, and, in 
many cases, ministers and people share in its embar- 
rassments. If a minister is stationary and his people 
are for progress, there is an interruption of sympa- 
thy. There is a similar interruption if a people is 
stationary, while the minister is for progress. And 
the same is true with regard to any other points on 
which the community is divided. 



84 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

The attention of some good men is directed chiefly 
to individual evils ; they wish to improve private 
character without attacking social principles which 
obstruct all improvement ; while the attention of other 
good men is directed to the evils of society ; they think 
that private character suffers from public sins, and 
that, as we are placed in society by Providence, the 
advancement of society is our principal duty. With 
regard to these questions there is a great difference 
of opinion. They compose the principal subjects of 
thought at the present day. They form what is called 
the excitiug questions by which society is now agi- 
tated. I should not do justice, my friends, to you or 
myself, if I were to close this communication without 
noticing the ground I have occupied in regard to those 
questions. It has been made, as you are aware, the 
cause of some reproach. A popular cry has been 
started by many individuals against the advocates of 
new views on philosophy and the condition of soci- 
ety, and, in common with many others, you have 
heard accusations brought against principles by those 
who have failed even to explain the meaning of the 
terms by which they were denounced. 

There is a class of persons who desire a reform in 
the prevailing philosophy of the day. These are 
called Transcendentalists, because they believe in an 
order of truths which transcends the sphere of the 
external senses. Their leading idea is the supremacy 
of mind over matter. Hence they maintain that the 
truth of religion does not depend on tradition, nor 
historical facts, but has an unerring witness in the 



MINISTRY. 85 

soul. There is a light, they believe, which enlight- 
eneth every man that cometh into the world ; there 
is a faculty in all — the most degraded, the most ig- 
norant, the most obscure — to perceive spiritual truth 
when distinctly presented ; and the ultimate appeal 
on all moral questions is not to a jury of scholars, a 
hierarchy of divines, or the prescriptions of a creed, 
but to the common sense of the human race. These 
views I have always adopted ; they have been at the 
foundation of my preaching from the first time that 
I entered the pulpit until now. The experience and 
reflection of nearly twenty years have done much 
to confirm, nothing to shake, them ; and if my dis- 
courses in this house, or my lectures in yonder ves- 
try, have in any instance displayed the vitality of 
truth, impressed on a single heart a genuine sense of 
religion, disclosed to you a new prospect of the re- 
sources of your own nature, made you feel more 
deeply your responsibility to God, cheered you in 
the sublime hope of immortality, and convinced your 
reason of the reality and worth of the Christian rev- 
elation, it was because my mind has been trained in 
the principles of Transcendental Philosophy, — a phi- 
losophy which is now taught in every Protestant uni- 
versity on the Continent of Europe, which is the com- 
mon creed of the most enlightened nations, and the 
singular misunderstanding of which among ourselves 
illustrates more forcibly, I am ashamed to say, the 
heedless enterprise than the literary culture of our 
countrymen. If you ask, why I have not preached 
the philosophy in the pulpit, I answer that I could not 



86 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

have preached without it, but my main business as a 
minister, I conceive, has been, not to preach philoso- 
phy or politics or medicine or mathematics, but the 
Gospel of Christ. If you ask whether I embrace 
every unintelligible production of the mind that is 
quoted from mouth to mouth as Transcendentalism, 
I answer, that if any man writes so as not to be un- 
derstood, be he Transcendentalist or Materialist, it is 
his own fault, not another's ; for my own part, I 
agree with Paul, " that I had rather speak five words 
with my understanding, that by my voice I might 
teach others also, than ten thousand words in an un- 
known tongue." There is another class of persons 
who are devoted to the removal of the abuses that 
prevail in modern society. They witness the oppres- 
sions that are done under the sun, and they cannot 
keep silence. They have faith that God governs 
man ; they believe in a better future than the past. 
Their daily prayer is for the coming of the kingdom 
of righteousness, truth, and love ; they look forward 
to a more pure, more lovely, more divine state of so- 
ciety than was ever realized on earth. With these 
views, I rejoice to say, I strongly and entirely sympa- 
thize. While I do not feel it my duty to unite with 
any public association for the promotion of these 
ideas, it is not because I would disavow their princi- 
ples, but because in many cases the cause of truth is 
carried forward better by individual testimony than 
by combined action. I would not be responsible for 
the measures of a society ; I would have no society 
responsible for me ; but in public and private, by 



MINISTRY. 87 

word and by deed, by persuasion and example, I 
would endeavor to help the progress of the great 
principles which I have at heart. The purpose of 
Christianity, as I firmly believe, is to redeem society 
as well as the individual from all sin. As a Chris- 
tian, then, I feel bound to do what I can for the pro- 
motion of universal temperance, to persuade men to 
abandon every habit which is at war with their phys- 
ical welfare and their moral improvement, and to pro- 
duce, by appeals to the reason and conscience, that 
love of inward order which is beyond the reach of 
legal authority. As a Christian, I would aid in the 
overthrow of every form of slavery ; I would free 
the mind from bondage and the body from chains ; I 
could not feel that my duty was accomplished while 
there was one human being, within the sphere of my 
influence, held to unrequited labor at the will of an- 
other, destitute of the means of education, or doomed 
to penury, degradation, and vice by the misfortune of 
his birth. I conceive it to be a large share of the 
minister's duty to preach the gospel to the poor, to 
announce glad tidings of deliverance to all that are 
oppressed. His warmest sympathies should be with 
those who have none to care for them ; he should 
never be so much in earnest as when pleading the 
cause of the injured. His most frequent visits will 
not be to the abodes of fashion and luxury, but to 
the dwellings where not many of the wise and mighty 
of this world are apt to enter ; and if he can enjoy 
the poor man's blessing, whom he has treated like an 
equal and a brother in all the relations of life, whose 



88 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

humble abode he has cheered by the expression of 
honest sympathy, and whose hard lot draws tears 
from those unused to sorrow, he will count it a richer 
reward than the applause of society or the admiration 
of listening crowds. There is another cause in which 
I feel the strongest interest, and which I would labor 
to promote, — that of inward peace between man and 
man. I have no faith whatever in the efficacy or the 
lawfulness of public or private wars. If they have 
ever been necessary in the progress of society, as I 
know they have been unavoidable, it was owing to 
the prevalence of the rude, untamed animal passions 
of man over the higher sentiments of his nature. It 
should be the effort of every true man to abolish them 
altogether ; to banish the principles from which they 
proceed ; to introduce the empire of justice and love ; 
and to abstain on all occasions from the indulgence 
of bitterness or wrath in his own conduct, and to 
offer no needless provocation for its indulgence in 
others. I believe in the omnipotence of kindness, of 
moral intrepidity, of divine charity. If society per- 
formed its whole duty, the dominion of force would 
yield to the prevalence of love, our prisons would be 
converted into moral hospitals, the schoolmaster would 
supersede the executioner, violence would no more be 
heard in our land, nor destruction in our borders. 
Our walls would be salvation, and our gates praise. 

I have thus laid before you, my friends, what I 
proposed to communicate on this occasion. I have 
used great plainness of speech. I have kept nothing 
back. I have omitted no topic on which I thought 



MINISTRY. 89 

light or explanation was demanded. You will have 
no further occasion to inquire from others what I be- 
lieve or think, as } r ou have received as explicit dis- 
closures as I know how to make from my own lips. 
If, after you have heard the statements now pre- 
sented, you shall arrive at different conclusions from 
those contained in the letter of your committee ; if 
you shall think that another's voice can be heard here 
with greater advantage than my own ; if you shrink 
from one who comes before you laden with so many 
heresies ; I shall claim no privilege in this place. I 
shall consult your truest interests ever ; and I can- 
not believe that they will be promoted by your being 
compelled to listen to one with whom you feel a di- 
minished sympathy. If, on the other hand, you do 
not decline my services, on the conditions which I 
have stated, it will be my earnest endeavor to build 
you up in holiness, in freedom, in faith, so long as I 
stand here. But I can never be a different man from 
what God has made me. I must always speak with 
frankness the word that comes into my heart ; and 
my only request is that it may be heard with the same 
frankness and candor with which it is uttered. 

One word more and I will stop. The correspond- 
ence which has taken place has been spoken of as 
the sign of a difficulty between the people and minis- 
ter of this congregation. This is not the case. There 
is no difficulty, no misunderstanding, in that relation. 
I have never received greater proofs of confidence, 
attachment, and esteem, than during this discussion. 



90 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

I have never felt greater attachment to my friends 
and brothers here than I do at this moment. If un- 
called for words have ever fallen from the lips of any 
individual or from my own, it is the infirmity of 
human nature ; not, I am sure, the fruit of deliber- 
ate unkindness ; and as I hope to be forgiven, I for- 
give everything. Where there is honor and justice 
and the fear of God on both sides, as I trust there is 
here, there is seldom any need of the slightest diffi- 
culty. What we all desire is the best interests of the 
society, of the families that worship here, of the souls 
that look to this place for immortal food. We have 
been together too long ; we have known each other 
too well ; we have stood too often by each other's 
side in scenes of joy and iu the hour of grief, for any 
unworthy emotion to be cherished long in our breasts. 
I look on these walls with inexpressible interest ; 
every seat has a story to tell of the past which we 
cannot think of unmoved. We have sat in heavenly 
places here with those who are now in heavenly 
places above ; our songs have ascended in pleasant 
harmony with those who now offer praise before the 
highest throne ; the venerable and the beloved have 
been trained to holiness in our companionship ; what- 
ever may be the future we have been blest in the 
past ; and whether this pulpit shall be filled by him 
who now addresses you, or by another who shall fill 
it more worthily, he will never cease to call down 
upon it the choicest benedictions of Heaven. 

" Peace be within these walls, and prosperity within 



MINISTRY. 91 

this dwelling. For my brethren and companions' 
sake, I will ever say, peace be within thee." 
I remaiu your devoted and affectionate servant, 

George Ripley. 

Boston, October 1, 1840. 

To a letter like this, — so frank and sincere, 
betraying in every line so profound a feeling of 
the incompatibility which existed between min- 
ister and people, so fraught with open secrets, 
— there could be no reassuring answer. The 
ultimate event was clearly foreseen. On the 
1st of January, 1841, the minister addressed a 
note to the proprietors, requesting to be per- 
mitted to depart after three months more of 
service. On the 31st of the month the propri- 
etors approved a letter accepting the resigna- 
tion, and resolutions expressing, in terms of un- 
qualified import, confidence and affection. The 
farewell discourse, a model of dignified speech, 
gentle, delicate, sympathetic enough, touching, 
but not dwelling, on the causes of the separa- 
tion, a truly pastoral sermon, was delivered 
March 28th, and printed for the use of the 
church in a pamphlet, which contained, besides 
the sermon, the communications which recorded 
the final separation. 

Thus the ministry ended, never, in that form, 
to be resumed. But to the end of his days Mr. 
Ripley looked back on it with tender interest. 



92 GEORGE RIPLEY 

At Brook Farm lie enjoyed the singing of the 
familiar hymn-tunes of the old service. In New 
York it was his habit, until infirmity prevented, 
to attend religious worship. He clung to sacred 
associations ; deplored the tendency to make re- 
ligious observances secular by substituting halls 
for meeting-houses, and lectures for sermons ; 
and held in high esteem the earnest prophets of 
the soul. As late as 1875, he wrote to an old 
Boston friend, a contributor to the " American 
Cyclopaedia " : " You take it for granted that I 
feel but little interest in the old Unitarianism, 
which is not the case. I owe it a great debt of 
gratitude for the best influences that my youth 
enjoyed ; and if any little success has attended 
my subsequent career, it has been chiefly caused 
by the impulses I received in Boston, and es- 
pecially from my association with the liberal 
and noble minded men whom I loved as friends 
and honored as guides." In 1879 he wrote in 
similar strains to Dr. G. W. Hosmer : " I trust 
that it is not a weakness of advanced years that 
I cherish so strong an affection for my old Mas- 
sachusetts friends, and especially for my breth- 
ren in the Unitarian ministry, whom I always 
regard as the best specimens of noble and en- 
lightened manhood that I ever met with." 

His last service was rendered at the ordina- 
tion of his successor, J. I. T. Coolidge, on Feb- 



MINISTRY. 93 

raary 9, 1842, on which occasion he came from 
Brook Farm to deliver the " Address to the 
People." The meeting-house was repaired, 
and, as far as was proper, embellished for the 
new pastor ; but in vain. In less than five 
years it was thought wise to change the loca- 
tion ; the corner-stone of a new, and for that 
time sumptuous, edifice was laid, May 3, 1847 ; 
on the same day, the year following, it was ded- 
icated. The name of the society was changed 
to the " Thirteenth Congregational Church of 
the City of Boston;" substantially another so- 
ciety was formed in another part of the town, 
at the corner of Harrison Avenue and Beach 
Street ; but fortune did not smile on the under- 
taking. In 1860 the society was dissolved, and 
at present no longer exists. The very records 
of the church were lost. A single charred vol- 
ume of business entries remains to tell the story 
of financial relations. 



CHAPTER II. 

GERMS OF THOUGHT. 

George Ripley's literary activity began 
early, and was from tlie first directed to the 
deepest problems. For a short period he edited 
the " Christian Register," which, in his hands, 
was all that it was designed to be, an organ of 
liberal views in theology. His occasionally 
printed sermons and tracts ever bore upon 
some interesting phase of speculation. Between 
1830 and 1837 he wrote ten articles for the 
" Christian Examiner," all either stating or 
foreshadowing his later conclusions. The first 
paper, on Degerando (September, 1830), indi- 
cated the theory of self-education as self-devel- 
opment. The second, " Religion in France " 
(July, 1831), contains an enthusiastic plea for 
spiritual Christianity, without priest, dogma, or 
intellectual limitation. This was followed by 
" Pestalozzi " (January, 1832), and by a notice 
of Follen's Inaugural. A paper reviewing 
Mackintosh's Ethical Philosophy, clear, forci- 
ble, argumentative, defends the doctrine of a 
moral sense in man. To some degree the same 



GERMS OF THOU GUT. 95 

doctrine bad come out in the article on Pesta- 
lozzi, whose humane aspirations found a hearty- 
response from the American critic, and whose 
experiment, " Neuhof," may have been one of 
the incentives to Brook Farm. Next (May, 
1835) came a review of Marsh's translation of 
Herder. The reviewer speaks with some re- 
serve of German theologians, but praises Tho- 
luck, protests against the indiscriminate charge 
of mysticism and obscurity, and repels the no- 
tion that German philosophy is irreligious. A 
new reformation, he contends, is started in Ger- 
many by men like Herder, Baumgarten, Sem- 
ler, Ernesti, and Michaelis. A characteristic 
paper on Herder's theological opinions was also 
printed in 1835. In March, 1836, came an arti- 
cle, mainly translated, on Schleiermacher, who, 
he thinks, " is without a representative in our 
theological progress." The remarkable article 
on Martineau's " Rationale of Religious In- 
quiry " appeared in the " Examiner " for No- 
vember, 1836. In this paper a distinction is 
made between liability to error and absence of 
that inspiration, which, in spite of incidental 
error, is claimed for the writers of the New Tes- 
tament, as well as for the prophets and law-giv- 
ers of the ancient dispensation, for the soul of 
man, but for Christ alone, " in entire and abso- 
lute completeness." This article caused great 



96 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

sensation. Mr. Andrews Norton called atten- 
tion to it in the " Boston Daily Advertiser," 
condemning its doctrines as leaning toward in- 
fidelity, and rebuking the presumption of the 
young writer. Mr. Ripley printed a rejoinder 
in the same paper on the very next day. This 
was the last paper of importance that he sent 
to the " Examiner," for the translation from 
Ullman of Herder's " Theological Aphorisms " 
(January, 1837) contained nothing suggestive. 
About this time there was much interest among 
Unitarians in new views on Christianity and 
Religion. In May of that year Orville Dewey 
delivered the Dudleian Lecture at Cambridge, 
choosing " Miracles " as his theme. The first 
volume of Norton's " Genuineness of the Gos- 
pels " was published in 1837, and straightway 
reviewed in the " Examiner," by A. A. Liver- 
more. James Walker, A. P. Peabody, Orville 
Dewey, and other leaders of thought were writ- 
ing in the w Examiner " about Revelation, Mir- 
acles, Inspiration, Christ's Moral Character. 
In the " Examiner " for March, 1833, F. H. 
Hedge published an article on Coleridge, in 
which he found occasion to commend Kant, 
Ficbte, especially Schelling, and spoke warmly 
of the intellectual and spiritual influence of the 
transcendental philosophy. This paper was 
praised by Mr. Ripley in the " Register," and 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 97 

was, doubtless, of potent influence in determin- 
ing the bent of his mind. 

The " Discourses on the Philosophy of Relig- 
ion Addressed to Doubters who wish to Be- 
lieve," — published in 1836, — comprised six 
sermons, one of which, the fifth, " On the Coin- 
cidence of Christianity with the Higher Nature 
of Man," had been printed before in the " Lib- 
eral Preacher." The little volume was not is- 
sued by way of controversy. The professed aim 
was " the quickening of a pure faith in spirit- 
ual truth by a calm exposition of some of the 
principles on which it rests." The discourses 
present the positive side of the author's faith. 
They are in tone sympathetic and gracious, 
charged with a serene and confiding piety. The 
" Examiner "speaks of the book as " one of the 
happiest among the many indications we have 
had of late of a disposition to introduce a higher 
tone of spirituality into the preaching of Unita- 
rians." In 1838 appeared the first two volumes 
of the series entitled " Specimens of Foreign 
Standard Literature," which extended to four- 
teen volumes, by J. S. Dwight, Margaret Fuller,. 
C. C. Felton, W. H. Channing, J. F. Clarke, 
Samuel Osgood, and C. T. Brooks. The " Phil- 
osophical Miscellanies," as the opening volumes 
were called, contained careful introductory and 
critical notices of the works of Cousin, Jouffroy, 
7 



98 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

and Constant, especially of Cousin, accompa- 
nied by translations of such passages from their 
published writings as were judged best suited 
to illustrate the course of French philosophy in 
its pursuit of an ideal aim. These volumes had 
a marked influence on the educated men of that 
day, especially in New England. They were 
afterwards — in 1857 — republished in Edin- 
burgh. 

By this time the way was prepared for the 
vindication of Spinoza, Schleiermacher, and De 
Wette against the charge of atheism and irre- 
ligion brought by Mr. Andrews Norton. Mr. 
Emerson's famous " Address to the Alumni of 
the Cambridge Divinity School " was given in 
1838. It effectually discharged the electricity 
that was in the air. At the succeeding anni- 
versary, in 1839, Andrews Norton gave the ad- 
dress on " The Latest Form of Infidelity." It . 
was a resolute, unflinching, scornful, but able 
and strong attack on the prevailing philosoph- 
ical tendency. His doctrine was " Sensation- 
alism " of an extreme type. 

" To the demand for certainty, let it come 
from whom it may, I answer, that I know of no 
absolute certainty, beyond the limit of moment- 
ary consciousness, — a certainty that vanishes 
the instant it exists, and is lost in the region of 
metaphysical doubt." " There can be no intui- 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 99 

tion, no direct perception, of the truth of Chris- 
tianity, no metaphysical certainty." " We must 
use the same faculties and adopt the same rules, 
in judging concerning the facts of the world 
which we have not seen, as concerning those of 
the world of which we have seen a very little." 
M We proceed throughout upon probabilities." 
" Of the facts on which religion is founded, we 
can pretend to no assurance, except that de- 
rived from the testimony of God, from the 
Christian revelation." " We can have no re- 
ligious sentiment of the Infinite, unless we have 
faith in the one Infinite Being, the God of 
Christianity. We can have no religious love 
of the beautiful and true, or, in common lan- 
guage, of beauty and truth, if we do not recog- 
nize something beautiful and true beyond the 
limits of this world." " He who has any relig- 
ious sentiment must have a religious creed." 
" Religious principle and feeling, however im- 
portant, are necessarily founded on the belief 
of certain facts : of the existence and provi- 
dence of God, and of man's immortality. Now 
the evidence of these facts is not intuitive." 
" Our belief in those truths, the evidence of 
which we cannot examine for ourselves, is 
founded in a greater or less degree on the testi- 
mony of others, who have examined their evi- 
dence, and whom we regard as intelligent and 
trustworthy." 



100 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

The reply, published anonymously, by " An 
Alumnus," in 1839, was a model of controver- 
sial writing, — clear, calm, impersonal, not free 
from asperity, but free from bitterness. Theo- 
dore Parker said, in a letter to a friend : " Rip- 
ley is writing the reply to Mr. Norton. It will 
make a pamphlet of about one hundred pages 
octavo, and is clear, strong, and good. He will 
not say all that I wish might be said ; but, after 
we have seen that, I will handle, in a letter to 
you, certain other points not approached by 
Ripley. There is a higher word to be said on 
this subject than Ripley is disposed to say just 
now." The " Alumnus " did indeed, in his first 
letter, confine himself to the main point raised 
by Mr. Norton, namely, his adoption and de- 
fense of the " Exclusive Principle," in an ad- 
dress before an assembly of liberal clergymen. 
The doctrine disputed is that the "MIRACLES 

. RECORDED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT ARE THE 
ONLY PROOF OF THE DIVINE ORIGIN OF CHRIS- 
TIANITY." For himself, the writer disclaims 
historical unbelief. 

" The question at issue," he says, " ought to 
be distinctly understood. It is not concerning 
the divine mission of Jesus Christ. The cer- 
tainty of that will be at the foundation of my 
reasonings, and it is admitted, as far as I know, 
in all the controversies to which the subject has 
given rise in our own country. 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 101 

"Nor is it whether Jesus Christ performed 
the miracles ascribed to him in the New Testa- 
ment. I shall hereafter allude to the doubts 
which are felt by many excellent Christians on 
this point ; but, for my own part, I cannot avoid 
the conclusion that the miracles related in the 
Gospels were actually wrought by Jesus. With- 
out being blind to the difficulties of the subject, 
I receive this view, according to my best knowl- 
edge and understanding, on the evidence pre- 
sented, and in this belief I am joined by a large 
number of those, against whom your charge of 
infidelity is alleged, among ourselves. 

" Neither does the question I am about to 
consider relate to any philosophical explanation 
of the miracles of Christ. I believe that he 
gave health to the sick, sight to the blind, and 
life to the dead ; and my explanation of these 
facts is that presented in the New Testament." 

The error he combats is opposed on several 
grounds: 1. As being bold, extravagant, and 
novel. 2. As being contrary to the clear and 
express teachings of the Scriptures, both of the 
Old and the New Testament. 3. As being in- 
compatible with precise directions to scrutinize 
and reject miraculous claims when put forward 
by false prophets. 4. The doctrine that mira- 
cles are the only evidence of a divine revelation, 
if generally admitted, would impair the influ- 



102 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ence of the Christian ministry, by separating 
the pastor of a church from the sympathies of 
his people. 5. It would have an injurious bear- 
ing on the character of a large portion of the 
most sincere believers in Christ. 6. It removes 
Christianity from its stronghold in the common 
mind, and puts it into the keeping of scholars 
and antiquaries. " Christian Truth," it is as- 
serted, "has always been addressed to the 'in- 
tuitive perceptions ' of the common mind. A 
shallow and presumptuous philosophy — pre- 
sumptuous because shallow — usurps the place 
of the simplicity of Christ, and would fain 
smother the breathing life of heavenly truth. 
Creeds came into the church with the dreams 
of speculation. They have been handed down 
through the dust of the schools ; they have 
sought their principal defense in the subtile, 
shadowy, and artificial distinctions of the 
learned ; and the most vigorous attacks they 
have received have come from the unarmed 
strength of plebeian sects." 

Mr. Norton put the substance of this Letter 
contemptuously aside, as not being addressed 
to an examination of his reasoning. He could 
hardly say that of the two subsequent Letters, 
which were devoted to a defense of Spinoza, 
Schleiermacher, and De Wette against the 
charge of atheism and irreligion. In the second 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 108 

of these, page 148, occurs this language : " The 
principle that the soul has no faculty to perceive 
spiritual truth is contradicted, I believe, by the 
universal consciousness of man. God has never 
left himself without witness in the human heart. 
The true light has shone, more or less brightly, 
on every man that cometh into the world. This 
Divine Spirit has never ceased to strive with 
the children of earth; it has helped their in- 
firmities, given them just and elevated concep- 
tions, touched their eyes with celestial light, 
and enabled them to see the beauty and glory 
of divine things. God has ever manifested him- 
self to his intelligent creatures ; but have they 
no faculty to behold this manifestation ? No ; 
man has the faculty for ( feeling and perceiving 
religious truth.' So far from being imaginary, 
it is the highest reality of which the pure soul 
is conscious. Can I be more certain that I am 
capable of looking out and admiring the forms 
of external beauty, ' the frail and weary weed 
in which God dresses the soul that he has called 
into time,' than that I can also look within, and 
commune with the fairer forms of truth and 
holiness, which plead for my love, as visitants 
from heaven? " 

In the second Letter, that on Spinoza, he had 
written : " They (scholars) are called on for 
the most gracious sympathies with the whole 



104 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

community. They should freely give of all the 
light which they have freely received. This 
cannot be done by diverting public attention 
from general topics to personal interests. These 
topics must be met with manliness and with 
temperate zeal. There must be no disguise, no 
timidity, no bitterness, no exclusiveness. Even 
those of us who are deeply sensible of having 
no claim on the attention of the public, and 
who would gladly exchange the field of dispute 
'for the still and quiet air of delightful studies,' 
or the more attractive walks of practical useful- 
ness, are bound to utter the word which it may 
be given us to speak." Then follows a quiet 
but unsparing criticism of what he considers 
Mr. Norton's unjust aspersions on a " devout, 
sweet, unselfish, truth-seeking " man. 

This was in 1840. In 1855, noticing in the 
New York " Tribune " Mr. Norton's transla- 
tion of the Gospels, he said of its author : " His 
mind was so habitually severe in its action, his 
demand for clearness of thought and expression 
was so unrelenting, and his opinions were so 
accurately formed and so firmly held, that no 
production of his pen could fail of bearing the 
characteristic stamp of his individual genius 
and culture. . . . He often expressed rash and 
hasty judgments in regard to the labors of re- 
cent or contemporary scholars, consulting his 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 105 

prejudices, as it would seem, rather than com- 
petent authority. But in his own immediate 
department of sacred learning he is entitled to 
the praise of sobriety of thought and profound- 
ness of investigation." Later still, in a chapter 
on " Philosophic Thought in Boston," written 
for the " Memorial History," the younger oppo- 
nent writes thus of his antagonist : " Contempo- 
rary with Professor Frisbie, and united with 
him by the most intimate ties of friendship and 
sympathy, was Andrews Norton, who, though 
trained in a different philosophical school, the 
principles of which he always cherished with 
singular tenacity, holds a distinguished place 
among the intellectual influences which have 
helped to stamp the society of Boston with an 
impress of liberal inquiry and original thought 
in the sphere of letters, philosophy, and art." 
The whole passage is remarkable as a tribute 
to an extraordinary man, and as an illustration 
of that rare balance of mind, that unfailing 
equity and sweetness of temper, which distin- 
guished George Ripley through life. 

In the same year that this controversy was 
going on (1840), in connection with R. W. Em- 
erson and Margaret Fuller, Mr. Ripley estab- 
lished " The Dial," a monthly magazine for re- 
ligion, literature, and art, of which he was the 
resident editor in Boston until his removal to 



106 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Brook Farm in 1841. During the short period 
of his association with it he contributed two 
articles, one a review of Orestes A. Brown- 
son's writings, the other a " Letter to a Theo- 
logical Student." The first is a hearty tribute 
to "a writer whose native force of mind, com- 
bined with rare philosophical attainments, has 
elevated him to a prominent rank among the 
living authors of this country." The second is 
a warm exhortation to a young aspirant after 
the honors of the ministry to direct his eyes 
earnestly to " the great lights above and within." 
He recommends familiar acquaintance with Her- 
der's " Letters on the Study of Theology," and 
says : " In Europe a new life has sprung up 
from the ashes of a departed faith ; a hag-like, 
scholastic theology has given up the ghost, upon 
being brought out of darkness into daylight ; 
and a virgin form appears, radiant with beauty, 
and already uttering the same words with which 
angel voices heralded the birth of Christ. It 
is for our young men to welcome this glorious 
visitant to their bosoms. . . . Let your mind 
be filled and consecrated with the heavenly 
spirit of Christ ; let your youthful energy be 
blended with the meekness and gentleness and 
wisdom of your Divine Master, and you will 
have everything to hope and little to fear." 
The man who could write such words was 



GERMS OF THOUGHT. 107 

surely no clenier, but a fervent believer rather. 
He left the ministry himself, not because he 
had lost faith in it, but because his soul was 
kindled with zeal for a new, and, as he felt, 
better method of applying gospel principles to 
human society. He had become persuaded, 
after many years of the ablest service he could 
render, that the work of the ministry was not 
the work appointed for him. He honored it, 
but could perform it no longer ; and the only 
way that he knew of showing how truly he held 
it in honor was to put its precepts into immedi- 
ate practice by instituting a social order which 
should correspond to its requirements ; by a he- 
roic attempt to bring the new heaven of proph- 
ecy down to the old earth of fact. He had 
always insisted on a Christian life as the only 
sure test of a Christian faith ; now he meant 
to put into radical practice the lessons of his 
own pulpit. The ministry was noble, literature 
was delightful, but duty he considered before 
all. 



CHAPTER III. 
BROOK FARM. 

The plunge from the pulpit to Brook Farm, 
though immediate, was not so headlong as is 
commonly supposed ; on the contrary, it was 
natural, comparatively easy, almost inevitable. 
At this distance, sharply contrasting the two 
situations, — the dignity, leisure, elegance, re- 
spectability of the one, with the democracy, toil, 
rudeness, unpopularity of the other ; the quiet 
of the library with the tumult of affairs ; the 
pursuit of high philosophy with the study of 
soils and crops ; the works of Kant, Schelling,. 
Cousin, with muck manuals ; broadcloth and 
beaver with overalls and tarpaulin ; it seems as 
if heroism of an exalted kind, not to say a rash 
enthusiasm, quite unaccountable in a cautious 
man, must have stimulated so wild an enter- 
prise. Heroism there certainly was. There 
was heroism in the brave preacher who, for 
nearly fifteen years, had proclaimed a gospel 
which was unwelcome to the staid Unitarian 
community whereof he was a member. But 
Brook Farm was simply the logical completion 



BROOK FARM. 109 

of the pulpit ministration ; a final proof of the 
preacher's sincerity. Besides all this, it would 
be a mistake to suppose that the enterprise 
looked then as chimerical as to some it does now. 
It must be remembered that projects of radi- 
cal social reform were in the air. To quote 
the language of John Morley : " A great wave 
of humanity, of benevolence, of desire for im- 
provement, — a great wave of social sentiment, 
in short, — poured itself among all who had 
the faculty of large and disinterested thinking." 
Dr. Pusey and Dr. Newman, representatives 
of the vital movement in the direction of spirit- 
ual supernaturalism, were thinking and writing. 
Thomas Arnold and F. D. Maurice were trying 
to broaden the Church of England in the direc- 
tion of human progress, so that it might em- 
brace heaven and earth, faith and philosophy, 
creed and criticism. Carlyle was thundering 
against shams in religion and politics. Dickens 
was showing up the abuses, cruelties, and iniq- 
uities of the established order. Kingsley was 
stirring the caldron of social discontent. The 
teaching of George Combe was heralded as an 
inspiration. Cobden was inaugurating a new 
era in industrial undertakings. The corn-law 
agitation was started. John Bright and Dan- 
iel O'Connell were busy at their work of de- 
stroying monopolies. In France as well as in 



110 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

England, in fact all over Europe, the seeds were 
ripening for the great revolt of 18-18. 

The influence of the new ideas was felt in the 
United States. The Communist experiment 
in Brazil was started in 1841; the Hopedale 
Community in 1842 ; Robert Owen's enter- 
prise may be said to have reached its highest 
level in 1826 ; the writings of Charles Fourier 
were interpreted here by Albert Brisbane and 
Horace Greeley, as early as 1842. No fewer 
than eleven experiments followed Owen's ; no 
fewer than thirty-four were creations of the 
impetus given, directly or indirectly, by Fou- 
rier. The " enthusiasm of humanity" was 
widespread. We have the testimony of James 
Martineau to the fact that Dr. Channing, for a 
time, fell under the fascination of some of the 
speculative writers that abounded at that time, 
who held forth the promise of a Golden Age for 
society ; writers like Rousseau, Godwin, Mary 
Wolstonecraft, the Pantisocratists like Southey 
and Coleridge, who actually entertained the 
thought of going to America to plant an ideal 
society. Similar plans were eagerly discussed 
among the friends of progress in Boston, — Mr. 
and Mrs. Ripley being prominent as talkers and 
sympathetic as listeners. One of the most sus- 
ceptible and ardent was Mrs. Ripley, a woman 
of burning enthusiasm, warm feeling, and pas- 



BROOK FARM. Ill 

sionate will. Theodore Parker made the fol- 
lowing entry in his journal : " Mrs. Ripley gave 
me a tacit rebuke for not shrieking at wrongs, 
and spoke of the danger of losing our humanity 
in abstractions." 

That so strong a feeling, animating com- 1 
manding minds, kindling the circle in which he 
was intimate, should have possessed, and even 
carried away, a man wearied by the toil, and 
disappointed in the results, of a long ministry 
which he had for years been feeling was uncon- 
genial, is not surprising. If he could have fore- 
seen the end from the beginning, the hard, in- 
cessant, anxious toil, the meagreness of popular 
sympathy, the waning of hopes, the final disap- 
pointment ; if he could have felt the precarious- 
ness of the effort, its hopelessness in view of the 
existing social order, its ineffectiveness in that 
form, as a scheme for regenerating mankind, 
he would probably have hesitated longer than 
he did, perhaps have withdrawn entirely. But 
at that period there seemed little cause for mis- 
giving. The heavenly Jerusalem was in the 
clouds, waiting to descend. The believer was 
justified in the persuasion that the time for its 
appearing had come. The disciples were gath- 
ered ; the iniquity of the world was full ; the 
angel had put the trumpet to his lips. 

The earliest articles of association are here 
given: — *^* 



112 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ARTICLES OF ASSOCIATION OF THE SUBSCRIBERS 
TO THE BROOK FARM INSTITUTE OF AGRICULT- 
URE AND EDUCATION. 

Articles of Association made and executed this 
twenty-ninth day of September, one thousand eight 
hundred and forty-one, by and between the several 
persons and their assigns, who have given their sig- 
natures to this instrument and by it associated them- 
selves together for the purpose and objects herein- 
after set forth : — 

Art. I. The name and style of this Association 
shall be The Subscribers to the Brook Farm Insti- 
tute of Agriculture and Education ; and all persons 
who shall hold one or more shares of the stock of the 
Association shall be members ; and every member 
shall be entitled to one vote on all matters relating to 
the funds of the Association. 

Art. II. The object of the Association is to pur- 
chase such estates as may be required for the estab- 
lishment and continuance of an agricultural, literary, 
and scientific school or college, to provide such lands 
and houses, animals, libraries and apparatus, as may 
be found expedient or advantageous to the main pur- 
pose of the Association. 

Art. III. The whole property of the Association, 
real and personal, shall be vested in and held by Four 
Trustees to be elected annually by the Association. 

Art. IV. No shareholder shall be liable to any 
assessment whatever on the shares held by him, nor 
shall he be held responsible individually in his private 



BROOK FARM. 113 

property on account of this Association ; nor shall the 
Trustees, or any officer or agent of the Association, 
have any authority to do anything which shall impose 
personal responsibility on any shareholder by making 
any contracts or incurring any debts for which the 
shareholders shall be individually or personally re- 
sponsible. 

Art. V. All conveyances to be taken for lands or 
other real estate purchased by the Association in pur- 
suance of these articles shall be made to the Trustees, 
their successors in office or survivors as joint tenants, 
and not as tenants in common. 

Art. VI. The Association guarantees to each, 
shareholder the interest of five per cent, annually on 
the amount of stock held by him in the Association, 
and this interest may be paid in certificates of stock 
and credited on the books of the Association ; pro- 
vided, however, that each shareholder may, at the 
time of the annual settlement, draw on the funds of 
the Association, not otherwise appropriated, to an 
amount not exceeding that of the interest credited in 
his favor. 

Art. VII. The shareholders on their part, for 
themselves, their heirs and assigns, do renounce all 
claim on any profits accruing to the Association for 
the use of their capital invested in the stock of the 
Association, except five per cent, interest on the 
amount of stock held by them, payable in the man- 
ner described in the preceding article. 

Art. VIII. Every subscriber may receive the tui- 
tion of one pupil for every share held by him, instead 



114 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

of five per cent, interest, as stated above, or tuition 
to an amount not exceeding twenty per cent, interest 
on his investment. 

Art. IX. No share shall be transferred from one 
person to another without the consent of the Trustees, 
nor shall any such transfer be valid without their sig- 
nature. 

Art. X. Every shareholder may withdraw his 
amount of stock and whatever interest is due thereon, 
by giving twelve months' notice to the Trustees of the 
Association. 

Art. XI. The capital stock of the Association, 
now consisting of Twelve Thousand Dollars, shall be 
divided into shares of Five Hundred Dollars each, 
and may be increased to any amount at the pleasure 
of the Association. 

Art. XII. These articles, it is understood and 
agreed on, are intended for the safe, legal, and orderly 
holding and management of such property real and 
personal as shall further the purposes of the " Brook 
Farm Institute of Agriculture and Education," to 
which Institute this Association of subscribers is sub- 
ordinate and auxiliary. 

SUBSCRIPTION. 

We, the undersigned, do hereby agree to pay the 
sum attached to our names, to be invested in the 
Brook Farm Institute of Agriculture and Education, 
according to the conditions described in the foregoing 
Articles of Association. 

Date, 1841. 





BROOK FARM. 


Names. 






Shares. 


Geo. Ripley . . 


a 


No. 


1, 2, and 3 . 


Nath. Hawthorne 


. 


M 


18 and 19 . 


Minot Pratt . . 


. 


II 


4, 5, and 6 . 


Charles A. Dana 


, 


II 


10, 11, and 12 


William B. Allen 


. 


it 


7, 8, and 9 . 


Sophia W. Ripley 


• 


tt 


16 and 17 . 


Maria T. Pratt . 


. 


tt 


20 and 21 . 


Sarah F. Stearns 


. 


tt 


22 and 23 . 


Marianne Ripley 


• 


ft 


13, 14, and 15 


Charles 0. Whitmore 


tt 


24 ... . 






OFFICERS. 



115 



Sums. 
$1,500 
1,000 
1,500 
1,500 
1,500 
1,000 
1,000 
1,000 
1,500 
500 



At a meeting of the Brook Farm Institute of Agri- 
culture and Education, held on Wednesday, Septem- 
ber 29, 1841, the following persons were appointed 
to office as follows : — 

General Direction. 

Geo. Ripley, Minot Pratt, 

Wm. B. Allen. 

Direction of Finance. 
Nath. Hawthorne, Chas. A. Dana, 

Wm. B. Allen. 

Direction of Agriculture. 

Wm. B. Allen, Minot Pratt, 

Geo. Ripley. 

Direction of Education. 

Sophia W. Ripley, Charles A. Dana, 

Marianne Ripley. 

Charles A. Dana was appointed Recording Seere- 



116 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

tary, and Minot Pratt, Treasurer ; and the meeting 
adjourned. 

Chas. Anderson Dana, Secretary. 

At a meeting of the Brook Farm Institute of Agri- 
culture and Education on Saturday last, October 30, 
1841, the following votes were passed : — 

Voted, 1. To transfer the Institution recently car- 
ried on by George Ripley to the Brook Farm Insti- 
tute of Agriculture and Education from and after No- 
vember 1, 1841, according to the conditions stated in 
the instrument of this date, and signed by George 
Ripley, William B. Allen, and Charles A. Dana. 

2. To transfer the establishment recently carried 
on by Marianne Ripley to the Brook Farm Institute, 
from and after November 1, 1841, according to the 
conditions stated in the instrument referred to in the 
above vote. 

3. That, in the annual settlement with individual 
members, each member shall be allowed board in pro- 
portion to the time employed for the Association : 
that is, one year's board for one year's labor ; one 
half year's board for one half year's labor ; and if no 
labor is done, the whole board shall be charged. 

4. That the price of board charged to the Asso- 
ciates shall be $4.00 per week, until otherwise or- 
dered, including house-rent, fuel, light, and washing. 

5. That three hundred days' labor shall be consid- 
ered equal to one year's labor, and shall entitle a per- 
son to one share of the annual dividend, and no allow- 
ance shall be made for a greater amount of labor. 

6. That sixty hours shall be considered equal to 



BROOK FARM. 117 

six days' labor for the months of May, June, July, 
August, September, and October, inclusive ; forty- 
eight hours, from November to April, inclusive. 

7. That for children of the associates, over ten 
years of age, board shall be charged at half the estab- 
lished rate. 

8. That the price of board and tuition shall be 
$•4.00 a week for boys, and $5.00 a week for girls 
over twelve years of age ; and $3.50 a week for chil- 
dren under that age, exclusive of washing and sepa- 
rate fire. Chas. Anderson Dana, Secretary. 

The " Brook Farm Association for Education 
and Agriculture," was put in motion in the 
spring of 1841. There was no difficulty in col- 
lecting a company of men and women large 
enough to make a beginning. One third of the 
subscriptions was actually paid in, Mr. Ripley 
pledging his library for four hundred dollars of 
his amount. With the sum subscribed a farm 
of a little less than two hundred acres was 
bought for ten thousand five hundred dollars, 
in West Roxbury, about nine miles from Bos- 
ton. The site was a pleasant one, not far from 
Theodore Parker's meeting-house in Spring 
Street, and in close vicinity to some of the most 
wealthy, capable, and zealous friends of the en- 
terprise. It was charmingly diversified with 
hill and hollow, meadow and upland. It pos- 
sessed, moreover, historical associations, which 



118 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

were interesting to its new occupants. Here 
the " apostle " Eliot preached to the Indians ; 
his grave was hard by. The birth-place was 
not far distant of General Warren, of Revolu- 
tionary fame. The spot seemed peculiarly ap- 
propriate to the uses it was now set apart for. 
Later experience showed its unfitness for lucra- 
tive tillage, but for an institute of education, 
a semi-aesthetic, humane undertaking, nothing 
could be better. 

This is the place to say, once for all, with the 
utmost possible emphasis, that Brook Farm was 
not a u community" in the usual sense of the 
term. There was no element of " socialism " 
in it. There was about it no savor of antino- 
mianism, no taint of pessimism, no aroma, how- 
ever faint, of nihilism. It was wholly unlike 
any of the " religious " associations which had 
been established in generations before, or any 
of the atheistic or mechanical arrangements 
which were attempted simultaneously or after- 
wards. Dr. Channing had said, in a letter to 
Rev. Adin Ballou, dated February 27, 1841, 
two months before the beginning of Brook 
Farm, " I have for a very long time dreamed 
of an association in which the members, instead 
of preying on one another, and seeking to put 
one another down, after the fashion of this 
world, should live together as brothers, seeking 
one another's elevation and spiritual growth." 



BROOK FARM. 119 

The institution of Brook Farm, though far 
from being "religious" in the usual sense of 
the word, was enthusiastically religious in spirit 
and purpose. The faith in the divinity of nat- 
ural impulse may have been excessive, but em- 
phasis was so strongly laid on the divinity that 
the common dangers of following impulse were 
avoided. Confidence in freedom may have been 
exaggerated, but, inasmuch as the freedom was 
interpreted as freedom to become wise and good, 
simple and self-sacrificing, gentle and kind, its 
earthward tendency was no cause of anxiety. 
There was no theological creed, no ecclesiastical 
form, no inquisition into opinions, no avowed 
reliance on superhuman aid. The thoughts of 
all were heartily respected ; and while some 
listened with sympathy to Theodore Parker, 
others went to church nowhere, or sought the 
privileges of their own communion. At the 
funeral of one who died in the Episcopal faith, 
the services were conducted in accordance with 
that ritual. There were many Swedenborgians 
in the company ; in fact, there was a decided 
leaning towards the views of the Swedish mys- 
tic; but no attempt was made to fashion opin- 
ion in that or in any other mould. The spirit 
of hope in the Association was too elevated for 
that. It has been well said that the aim of the 
Association was practical, not theoretical, not 



120 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

transcendental, not intellectual ; in the same 
breath it must be added that it was, in a high 
sense, spiritual ; that it was practical because it 
was spiritual ; that while it aimed at the phys- 
ical and mental elevation of the poorer classes, 
it did so because it believed in their natural ca- 
pacity for elevation as children of God. The 
leaders trusted in the power of light and love, 
in natural truth and justice, and were persuaded 
that the world could be helped by nothing else. 
They believed, therefore they toiled. 

More than this, they felt themselves to be 
Christians. The name of Jesus was always 
spoken with earnest reverence. Mr. W. H. 
Channing, then as now an enthusiastic preacher 
of gospel righteousness, was a welcome prophet 
among them. Their discussions were always 
within the limits of the Christian dispensation, 
never conducted in the interest of denial or 
skepticism. In a word, the faith in mental 
freedom was so cordial, sincere, hospitable, that 
no intrusion of the sectarian temper was pos- 
sible ; and the persuasion was so clear that the 
various forms of religious faith were but so 
many adaptations to spiritual need, that none 
were tempted to do more than set forth the at- 
tractions of their own favorite worship. 

In an article written for the " Democratic Re- 
view " of November, 1842, the editor, Orestes 



\ 



BROOK FARM. 121 

A. Brownson, defined Brook Farm as an In- 
dustrial Establishment, quoting its founder to 
that effect. After giving the " clerical " answer 
to the social problem, the " ethical" answer, the 
answer of the " politician," the " political econ- 
omist," the " socialist," Mr. Brownson declares 
his preference for Brook Farm, as being sim- 
ple, unpretending, and presenting itself " by no 
means as a grand scheme of world reform, or of 
social organization." He describes their leader 
as " a man of rare attainments, one of our best 
scholars, as a metaphysician second to no one 
in the country, and says : " A few men and 
women, of like views and feelings, grouped 
themselves around him, not as their master, but 
as their friend and brother." They " leave the 
State and Church standing in all their necessity 
and force." "It essentially breaks the family 
caste, while it preserves the family inviolate." 
" Individual property is recognized and sacred. 
But, by making time, not skill nor intensity, the 
basis according to which the compensation of 
labor is determined, and by eating at a common 
table, and laboring in common and sharing in 
common the advantages of the individual excel- 
lence there may be in the community, the indi- 
vidual feeling is subdued, and, while suffered to 
remain as a spring of industry, it is shorn of its 
power to encroach on the social body." The 



122 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

letter printed along with the article — the occa- 
sion, in fact, of its being written — dwells on the 
Christian democracy of the establishment, the 
good-will, the admirable teaching, the cheerful 
toil, the happiness of the children, the service- 
ableness of the women, the diligence in farm, 
garden, and fruit culture, the cordial humanity, 
the glad self-sacrifice, the extraordinary com- 
bination of religious exaltation with aesthetic 
taste. 

A sympathizing critic published in the " Dial " 
(January, 1842) an account of the enterprise as 
it then appeared : — 

The attempt is made on a very small scale. A 
few individuals who, unknown to each other, under 
different disciplines of life, reacting from different so- 
cial evils, but aiming at the same object, — of being 
wholly true to their natures as men and women, — 
have been made acquainted with one another, and 
have determined to become the faculty of the embryo 
university. 

In order to live a religious and moral life worthy 
the name, they feel it is necessary to come out in 
some degree from the world, and to form themselves 
into a community of property, so far as to exclude 
competition and the ordinary rules of trade ; while 
they reserve sufficient private property, or the means 
of obtaining it, for all purposes of independence and 
isolation at will. They have bought a farm in order 
to make agriculture the basis of their life, it being 



BROOK FARM. 123 

the most direct and simple in relation to nature. A 
true life, although it aims beyond the highest star, is 
redolent of the healthy earth. The perfume of clo- 
ver lingers about it. The lowing of cattle is the nat- 
ural bass to the melody of human voices. 

The plan of the Community, as an economy, is, in 
brief, this : for all who have property to take stock, 
and receive a fixed interest thereon ; then to keep 
house or board in common, as they shall severally de- 
sire, at the cost of provisions purchased at wholesale, 
or raised on the farm ; and for all to labor in com- 
munity and be paid at a certain rate an hour, choos- 
ing their own number of hours and their own kind 
of work. With the results of this labor and their 
interest they are to pay their board, and also pur- 
chase whatever else they require, at cost, at the ware- 
houses of the community, which are to be filled by 
the community as such. To perfect this economy, in 
the course of time they must have all trades and all 
modes of business carried on among themselves, from 
the lowest mechanical trade which contributes to the 
health and comfort of life, to the finest art which 
adorns it with food or drapery for the mind. All 
labor, whether bodily or intellectual, is to be paid at 
the same rate of wages, on the principle that, as the 
labor becomes merely bodily, it is a greater sacrifice 
to the individual laborer to give his time to it ; be- 
cause time is desirable for the cultivation of the intel- 
lect, in exact proportion to ignorance. 

Besides, intellectual labor involves in itself higher 
pleasures, and is more its own reward, than bodily 



124 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

labor. Another reason for setting the same pecun- 
iary value on every kind of labor is to give outward 
expression to the great truth that all labor is sacred 
when done for a common interest. Saints and phi- 
losophers already know this, but the childish world 
does not ; and very decided measures must be taken 
to equalize labor in the eyes of the young of the 
community, who are not beyond the moral influences 
of the world without them. The community will 
have nothing done within its precincts but what is 
done by its own members, who stand all in social 
equality : that the children may not " learn to expect 
one kind of service from Love and Goodwill, another 
from the obligation of others to render it," a griev- 
ance of the common society, stated by one of the 
associated mothers as destructive of the soul's sim- 
plicity. Consequently, as the Universal Education 
will involve all kinds of operations necessary to the 
comforts and elegances of life, every associate, even 
if he be the digger of a ditch as his highest accom- 
plishment, will be an instructor in that to the young 
members. 

Nor will this elevation of bodily labor be liable to 
lower the tone of manners and refinement in the com- 
munity. The " children of light " are not altogether 
unwise in their generation. They have an invisible 
but all-powerful guard of principles. Minds incapa- 
ble of refinement will not be attracted into this asso- 
ciation. It is an Ideal Community, and* only to the 
ideally inclined will it be attractive ; but these are to 
be found in every rank of life, under every shadow of 



BROOK FARM. 125 

circumstance. Even among the diggers of the ditch 
are to be found some who, through religious cultiva- 
tion, can look down in meek superiority upon the 
outwardly refined and the book learned. 

Besides, after becoming members of this commu- 
nity, none will be engaged merely in bodily labor. 
The hours of labor for the association will be limited 
by a general law, and can be curtailed at the will of 
the individual still more ; and means will be given to 
all for intellectual improvement, and for social inter- 
course calculated to refine and expand. The hours 
redeemed from labor by community will not be reap- 
plied to the acquisition of wealth, but to the produc- 
tion of intellectual good. This community aims to 
be rich, not in the metallic representation of wealth, 
but in the wealth itself, which money should repre- 
sent, namely, leisure to live in all the faculties of the 
soul. As a community, it will traffic with the world 
at large in the products of agricultural labor ; and it 
will sell education to as many young persons as can 
be domesticated in the families, and enter into the 
common life with their own children. In the end it 
hopes to be enabled to provide not only all the neces- 
saries, but all the elegances desirable for bodily and 
for spiritual health: books, apparatus, collections for^ 
science, works of art, means of beautiful amusement. 
These things are to be common to all ; and thus that 
object, which alone gilds and refines the passion for 
individual accumulation will no longer exist for de- 
sire, and, whenever the sordid passion appears, it will 
be seen in its naked selfishness. In its ultimate sue- 



126 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

cess the community will realize all the ends which 
selfishness seeks, but involved in spiritual blessings 
which only greatness of soul can aspire after. And 
the requisitions on the individuals, it is believed, will 
make this the order forever. The spiritual good will 
always be the condition of the temporal. 

Every one must labor for the community, in a rea- 
sonable degree, or not taste its benefits. The prin- 
ciples of the organization, therefore, and not its prob- 
able results in future time, will determine its members. 
These principles are cooperation in social matters, 
instead of competition or balance of interests ; and 
individual self-unfolding, in the faith that the whole 
soul of humanity is in each man and woman. The 
former is the application of the love of man, the lat- 
ter of the love of God, to life. Whoever is satis- 
fied with society as it is, whose sense of justice is not 
wounded by its common action, institutions, spirit of 
commerce, has no business with this community ; nei- 
ther has any one who is willing to have other men 
(needing more time for intellectual cultivation than 
himself) give their best hours and strength to bodily 
labor, to secure himself immunity therefrom. And 
whoever does not measure what society owes to its 
members, of cherishing and instruction, by the needs 
of the individuals that compose it, has no lot in this 
new society. Whoever is willing to receive from his 
fellow-men that for which he gives no equivalent will 
stay away from its precincts forever. 

From this extract it will be seen that the in- 



BROOK FARM. 127 

terests of the higher education, the cultivation 
of mind and soul, lay very near the heart of 
the noble founder of Brook Farm. He himself 
said : " We are a company of teachers. The 
branch of industry which we pursue as our 
primary object and chief means of support is 
teaching." 1 

In regard to individual teachers, it is enough 
to say that Mr. Ripley himself taught Intellect- 
ual and Moral Philosophy and Mathematics ; 
Mrs. Ripley was instructor in History and Mod- 
ern Languages ; George P. Bradford took the 
department of Belles Lettres ; Charles A. Dana 
had classes in Greek and German ; John S. 
Dwight imparted knowledge in Latin and Mu- 
sic; others were employed in the primary and 
infant schools. There was an instructor in 
Drawing ; a teacher also in theoretical and prac- 
tical Agriculture. Such time as was not occu- 
pied in teaching might be devoted to such pur- 
suits as inclination suggested, — farming, gar- 
dening, the cultivation of trees, fruits, flowers, 
or some branch of domestic service. There was 
always enough to do. Mr. Ripley liked to milk 
cows, saying that such occupation was eminently 
favorable to contemplation, particularly when 
the cow's tail teas looped up behind. He would 
also go out in the early morning and help clean 
the stable, a foul and severe task, which, it may 
i See Appendix. 



128 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

be presumed, he undertook by way of illustrat- 
ing the principle of self-sacrifice which was at 
the basis of the experiment. His wife worked 
in the laundry until the necessity of economiz- 
ing strength compelled her to resort to lighter 
labor, in which her natural elegance and refine- 
ment of judgment were required. When con- 
venient, the men did women's work ; the " Gen- 
eral," for example, made all the bread and cake 
and some of the pastry. On occasion chiefs — 
if such a term may be allowed — acted as wait- 
ers at table. Everybody was ready for any 
needed or available service. The place was a 
bee-hive. The head-farmer was hired, most of 
the members being literary men, unacquainted 
with the needs of the soil ; but, as a rule, the 
work was done by members. 

The establishment of the school was imme- 
diate. In two years the number of scholars 
was about thirty in a community of seventy. 
The original pioneers numbered about twenty. 
There were never more than one hundred and 
fifty. The teaching was of a high order, not so 
much by reason of the accomplishment of the 
instructors, as in consequence of the singular 
enthusiasm which animated all concerned in it, 
pupils no less than preceptors. Especially in 
music was the standard of taste exacting what- 
ever may be said of the attainment. The boys 



BROOK FARM. 129 

and girls at Brook Farm were familiar with 
the compositions of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, 
Mendelssohn, Schubert, before the initiation 
began elsewhere. There was a genuine passion 
for improvement in intellectual arts, a thirst for 
knowledge, a hunger for mental stimulus of a 
powerful kind. When Margaret Fuller visited 
the institution, and gave one of her eloquent, 
oracular talks, the interest caught up old and 
young. Miss Fuller visited Brook Farm, but 
did not live there ; neither did Emerson ; nei- 
ther did W. H. Channing ; neither did Theo- 
dore Parker ; neither did C. P. Cranch, though 
all came more or less often, and manifested a 
sincere interest. Many eminent persons came 
as observers of the experiment, — Orestes A. 
Brownson, James Walker, Bronson Alcott, and 
others of less note. The undertaking was so in- 
teresting that few people who had at heart the 
condition of society remained wholly aloof from 
it. The public curiosity was insatiable. Dur- 
ing one year more than four thousand visitors 
came. Every fine day brought a crowd. The 
multitude became occasionally an incumbrance. 
The time of the members was uncomfortably 
encroached on ; their occupations were dis- 
turbed. It became necessary at last to charge 
a small fee for their entertainment in case they 
required lunch or dinner. Among the callers. 



130 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

to show how miscellaneous were their motives, 
was the notorious Mike Walsh, who, it is safe 
to say, was not attracted by any interest in the 
higher problems of society. The experiment 
was on too small a scale to engage the attention 
of deeply theoretical minds, or to be widely 
significant. Charles Nordhoff, in his history 
of communistic societies in the United States, 
makes no mention of Brook Farm. But the 
eminence of its founder, the high aims of his 
associates, the well-known sympathy of several 
distinguished people, the prevalence throughout 
the community of views similar, at least, to 
those which animated the association, exerted 
an influence far beyond its actual domain. It 
was the earthly base of a celestial idea ; a house 
in the clouds ; a " castle in Spain " ; none the 
less but rather so much the more, a castle, for 
having its towers in the sky. 

The applications for admission were numer- 
ous, and, for the most part, from people who 
quite mistook the object the founders had in 
view. The well-to-do people of the world, the 
contented, the comfortable, the ambitious, the 
successful who had attained, the energetic who 
hoped to attain, the large class of unthinking, 
conventional people, young or old, rich or poor, 
educated or uneducated, had no concern w r ith 
and never came near the institution. To them 



BROOK FARM. 131 

it was a Utopia, visionary, chimerical, notional, 
absurd, a butt for ridicule. But the hungry of 
heart, the democratic, the aspiring, the senti- 
mental, the poor in spirit or in purse, those 
who sought a refuge or a place of rest; in some 
instances those who desired an easy, unlabori- 
ous, irresponsible life,' knocked for admission at 
the door. The nature of these overtures can 
readily be fancied by those who may be a little 
acquainted with the working of philanthropic 
establishments ; but for the benefit of such as 
may need enlightenment on this point, a few 
letters are here inserted with one of Mr. Rip- 
ley's replies : — 

Mass., October 12, 1844. 
Dear Sir, — I take the liberty of inquiring of you 
whether you can admit into your fraternity a literary 
old man, aged fifty-four years, who may be able to 
work perhaps six, eight, or ten hours per day. The 
work must be, at least at first, somewhat light, as he 
has never been used to any kind of manual labor. 
Of late years his attention has been so much de- 
voted to association and peace that he is fit for but lit- 
tle, if any, of the common business of the world, out 
of an association. He will bring no money, no funds 
whatever, and no influence into your community. 
He only desires to be and live and work and coop- 
erate with others ; where he can do as he would be 
done by, and contribute his feeble example in favor 
of a better order of society than our present antag- 
onistical selfishism. 



132 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

By giving me such information per mail as you 
may deem expedient, you will oblige, sir, 

Your obedient servant. 

June 1, 1843. 

Dear Sir, — I have an earnest and well-matured 
desire to join your community with my family, if I 
can do it under satisfactory circumstances, — I mean 
satisfactory to all parties. I am pastor of the First 
Congregational Church in this town. My congrega- 
tion is quiet, and in many respects very pleasant ; 
but I have felt that my views of late are not suffi- 
ciently in accordance with the forms under which I 
have undertaken to conduct the ministry of Christian 
truth. This want of accordance increases, and I feel 
that a crisis is at hand. I must follow the light that 
guides me, or renounce it to become false and dead. 
The latter I cannot do. I have thought of joining 
your association ever since its commencement. Is it 
possible for me to do so under satisfactory circum- 
stances ? 

I have deep, and I believe intelligent sympathy 
with your idea. I have a wife and four children, the 
oldest ten, the youngest seven years old. Our habits 
of life are very simple, very independent of slavery 
to the common forms of " gigmanity," and our bodies 
have not been made to waste and pine by the fashion- 
able follies of this generation. It is our creed that 
life is greater than all forms, and that the soul's life 
is diviner than the conveniences of fashion. 

As to property we can bring you little more than 



BROOK FARM. 133 

ourselves. But we can bring a hearty good-will to 
work, and in work we have some skill. I have un- 
impaired health, and an amount of muscular strength, 
beyond what ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. In 
the early part of my life I labored on a farm, filling 
up my leisure time with study, until I entered my 
present profession. My hands have some skill for 
many things ; and if I join you I wish to live a true 
life. My selfish aims are two : first, I wish to be 
under circumstances where I may live truly ; and 
second and chiefly I wish to do the best thing for my 
children. 

Be so good as to reply to this at your earliest con- 
venience. Yours, sincerely. 

Watertown, February 4, 1843. 

Messrs. of the Community at West Rox- 
bury, — I am induced to address you partly at the 
request of several gentlemen who have formed an 
association in this place for the purpose of inquiring 
into the principles of Fourier's plan for meliorating 
the condition of the human race, and also from an 
intense anxiety on my own part to know the practi- 
cal working of the plan which you have adopted in 
your community, and which is said in the public pa- 
pers to resemble, if not exactly to carry out in detail, 
the one recommended by the above mentioned writer. 

If you will have the goodness to answer the fol- 
lowing interrogatories, you will not only confer a 
favor on myself and those gentlemen who are now 
investigating this subject in this place, but, by giving 



134 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

such information as is the result of your experience, 
I trust you will aid the cause of the poor and op- 
pressed, and be instrumental in mitigating the mise- 
ries and afflictions of all conditions and classes of 
men : How long since you first organized your soci- 
ety ? How many associates were there at first ? 
What was the average amount in money or property 
that each one contributed to commence with ? Of 
how many acres does your farm consist ? What was 
the cost per acre and the terms of payment ? If pur- 
chased on time, have you been able, from the pro- 
ceeds of your farm and other products of your own 
industry, to sustain the society and meet the payments 
as they became due ? What is the present number 
of persons in your association, and in what ratio have 
they increased ? Do you have many applications for 
admission, and what are the qualifications requisite 
for an associate, either in a moral, intellectual, or 
pecuniary point of view ? In the present state of 
things, do you think it necessary to success that such 
a community as yours should be located near a large 
town or city ? Have any become dissatisfied and 
withdrawn from your community, and, in case they 
do leave, are they allowed to take the capital they in- 
vested and their earnings ? According to your regu- 
lations, can you expel a member ? Have you a writ- 
ten constitution, and, if so, what are its most promi- 
nent features ? Does each member choose his or her 
employment, and work at it when they please ? Have 
you any particular system for educating the children 
who belong to your community ? Do you intend to 



BROOK FARM. 135 

them what is generally termed a classical educa- 
tion ? Have jou a common fund, and, if so, how is 
it raised, and how are the persons chosen who con- 
trol it ? Do you all eat at a common table, and, if 
so, could a family or an individual, if they preferred 
it, have their meals in apartments by themselves ? 
Do you think a sufficient time has elapsed since the 
formation of your society for you or others to judge 
tolerably correctly of the utility of such associations, 
by your experiment ? 

Gentlemen, we can, of course, expect only brief 
answers to these inquiries ; but we trust you will do 
us the justice to believe that we are actuated by no 
idle curiosity in thus seeking information. 

Utica, January 18, 1844. 

Sir, — I have the happiness of being acquainted 
with a lady who has some knowledge of you, from 
whose representations I am encouraged to hope that 
you will not only excuse the liberty I (being a stran- 
ger) thus take in addressing you, but will also kindly 
answer a number of questions I am desirous of being 
informed upon, relative to the society for social re- 
form to which you belong. 

I have a daughter (having five children), who with 
her husband much wish to join a society of this kind : 
they have had thoughts of engaging with a society 
now forming in Rochester, but their friends advise 
them to go to one that has been some time in opera- 
tion, because those connected with it will be able to 
fpeak with certainty as to whether the working of 
the system in any way realizes the theory. 






136 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

1. The first question I would put is, Have you 
room in your association to admit the above family ? 

2. And if so, upon what terms would they be re- 
ceived ? 

3. Would a piano-forte, which two years ago cost 
$350, be taken at its present value in payment for 
shares ? 

4. Would any household furniture be taken in the 
same way ? 

5. Do you carry out M. Fourier's idea of diversity 
of employment ? 

6. How many members have you at this time ? 

7. Do the people, generally speaking, appear 
happy ? 

8. Would a young man, a mechanic, of unexcep- 
tional character, be received, having no capital ? 

9. Does the system work well with the children ? 

10. Have you not more than one church, and, if 
so, what are its tenets ? 

11. Have parties opportunities of enjoying any 
other religion ? 

12. What number of hours are generally employed 
in labor? 

13. What chance for study ? 

14. Do you meet with society suitable to your 
taste ? 

Although my questions are so numerous that I fear 
tiring you, yet I still feel that I may have omitted 
some inquiry of importance. If so, will you do me 
the favor to supply the deficiency ? 

Please to answer my questions by number, as they 



BROOK FARM. 137 

are put. Hoping you will write as soon as possible, 
I remain yours respectfully. 

Boston, Feb. the 13. 1844. 

Sur, — As I have hurd something About the sade 
broofarm, I thairfore take the Pleasure of wrighting 
A fue lines to you dear sur, to inform you sur of my 
mind about the sade place. I think sur that I should 
like to joine you boath in hart and hand. I am now 
stopping at the united states hotell boston, thair is 
one Mr. thomas Whitch is going with you in Apr. 
next he is a friend of mine I. think I. would like 
to go with him if I. could I. am tiard of liveing in 
the city I. would like to change my life if I. could 
be of any service to you in brookfarm I. think I. d 
like to Join you and do all in my power to premote 
the cause. I. would like to know the rules of the 
community if you sur Wright a fue lines to me and 
direct them to the united states hotell I. would be 
very happy to recive. indeed I. think I. would like 
to work on the farm this summer I should like to 
know what I should be alowed the first year. I. 
would like to lurn some trade in the winter. I. am 

single my age is 19. my name I hope sur that 

you may soon wright me a letter Whare I. may have 
the pleashure of seeing you soon. I. have more to 
say sur when I see you. I. would like to see you 
this week if possible. F. F. C, Boston. 

I will try to come out with my friend in the course 
of a week or two if I. do not see you before, but 
please wright me a letter if I do not see you. 



138 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Boston, March 1, 1844. 
Mr. George Ripley, Pres. of the west roxbry asso- 
ciation : 

as I wish to goin your society and not knoing 
the termes on wich members are admited I wish to 
be informed and the amount wich must be paid in. 
thare is six in the famely and as I am poor I wish to 
know the least sum wich we can be admited for. if 
you will pleaze to write and inform mee of the pertic- 
ulars you will oblige your humble servent, 

July 13, 1845. 

Dear Sir, — Will you step aside for a moment 
from the many duties, the interesting cares, and soul- 
stirring pleasures of your enviable situation and read 
a few lines from a stranger ? They come to you not 
from the cold and sterile regions of the north, nor 
from the luxuriant, yet untamed wilds of the west, 
but from the bright and sunny land where cotton 
flowers bloom ; where nature has placed her signet 
of beauty and fertility. Yes, sir, the science that 
the immortal Fourier brought to light has reached the 
far south, and I trust has warmed many hearts and 
interested many minds ; but of one alone will I write. 
It is to me a dawn of a brighter day than has ever 
yet risen upon the world — a day when man shall be 
redeemed from his more than " Egyptian bondage,'' 
and stand erect in moral, intellectual, and physical 
beauty. I have lived forty years in the world, and 
divided that time between the Eastern, Middle, and 
Southern States ; have seen life as exhibited in city 



BROOK FARM. 139 

and country ; have mingled with the most intelligent 
and with the unlettered rustic ; have marked society 
in a variety of phases, and find amid all that self- 
ishness has warped the judgment, chilled the affec- 
tions, and blunted all the fine feelings of the soul. 
I am weary and worn with the heartless folly, the 
wicked vanity, and shameless iniquity which the 
civilized world everywhere presents. Long have I 
sighed for something higher, nobler, holier than aught 
found in this world ; and have sometimes longed to 
lay my body down where the weary rest, that my 
spirit might dwell in perfect harmony. But since 
the beautiful science of amity has dawned upon my 
mind, my heart has loved to cherish the bright antic- 
ipations of hope, and I see in the dim distance the 
realization of all my wishes. I see a generation 
coming on the arena of action, bearing on their brows 
the impress of their noble origin, and cultivating in 
their hearts the pure and exalted feelings that should 
ever distinguish those who bear the image of their 
Maker. Association is destined to do much for poor 
suffering humanity : to elevate, refine, redeem the 
race and restore the purity and love that made the 
bowers of Eden so surpassingly beautiful. 

You, sir, and your associates are pioneers in a 
noble reform. May the blessing of God attend you. 
I am anxious to be with you for various reasons. The 
first is, I have two little daughters whom I wish to 
bring up amid healthful influences, with healthy and 
un trammeled bodies, pure minds, and all their young 
affections and sympathies clustering around their 



140 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

hearts. I never wish their minds to be under the in- 
fluence of the god of this generation — fashion ; nor 
their hearts to become callous to the sufferings of 
their fellows. I never wish them to regard labor as 
degrading, nor poverty as a crime. Situated as I am 
I cannot rear them in health and purity, and there- 
fore I am anxious to remove them from the baneful 
influences that surround them. I look upon labor as 
a blessing, and feel that every man and woman should 
spend some portion of each day in healthful employ- 
ment. It is absolutely necessary to my health, and is 
also a source of enjoyment even in isolation ; how 
much would that pleasure be increased could I have 
several kindred spirits around me with whom I could 
interchange thoughts, and whose feelings and desires 
flow in the same channel as my own. 

Oh, sir, I must live, labor, and die in association. 
Again my heart is pained with the woes of my fel- 
lows ; with the distressing poverty and excessive labor 
which are bearing to the grave a portion of the human 
family. Gladly would I bear my part in raising them 
to a higher and happier condition ; and how can I bet- 
ter do this than by uniting myself with the noble re- 
formers of Brook Farm, where caste is thrown aside 
and rich and poor constitute but one family. I have 
not a large fortune, but sufficient to live comfortably 
anywhere. A large part of it is now vested in houses 
and lands in Georgia. Such is the low price of cot- 
ton that real estate cannot be sold at this time with- 
out a ruinous sacrifice. Most of my Georgia prop- 
erty rents for more than the interest of its cost at 



BROOK FARM. 141 

eight per cent. I have also houses and lands in this 
state, but cannot for the above-named reasons find a 
purchaser. Therefore if I go to the Association I 
shall be obliged to leave some of my possessions un- 
sold, and be content to receive the rent until I can 
effect a sale. I have no negroes, thank God. Now 
if you are not full at Brook Farm, and do not object 
to myself, wife, and two daughters, one four years, 
the other six months old — presenting ourselves as 
candidates for admission, and $2,500 or $3,000 will 
be sufficient for an initiation fee, I shall, as soon as 
I can arrange my affairs, be with you. I will thank 
you to write me, informing me with how much ready 
cash, with an income of $500 or $600 per year, I 

can be received. Mrs. and myself will wish to 

engage daily in labor. We both labored in our 
youth ; we wish to resume it again. 

Dear Friends, if I may so call you. I read in the 
" New York Tribune " a piece taken from the 
" Dial," headed the West Roxbury Community. 
Now what I want to know is, can I and my children 
be admitted into your society, and be better off than 
we are here ? I have enough of the plainest kind to 
eat and wear here. I have no home but what we 
hire from year to year. I have no property but mov- 
ables, and not a cent to spare when the year comes 
round. I have three children : two boys and a girl ; 
the oldest fourteen, the youngest nine ; now I want 
to educate them — how to do it where there is no 
chance but ordinary schools, — to move into the vil- 



142 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

lage, I could not bring the year round, and the dan- 
ger they would be exposed to without a father to 
restrain their wanderings would be undertaking more 
than I dare attempt. Now, if you should presume 
to let me come, where can I live ? Can our indus- 
try and economy clothe and feed us for the year ? 
Can I keep a cow ? How can I be supplied with fire 
in that dear place, how can I pay my school bills, 
and how can I find all the necessary requisites for my 
children to advance in learning ? If I should wish to 
leave in two, three, or five years, could I and mine, 
if I paid my way whilst there ? If you should let 
me come, and I should think best to go, how shall 1 
get there, what would be my best and cheapest route, 
how should I proceed with what I have here — sell 
all off or bring a part ? I have three beds and bed- 
ding, one cow, and ordinary things enough to keep 
house. My children are called tolerable scholars ; 
my daughter is the youngest. The neighbors call 
her an uninteresting child. I have no pretensions to 
make ; my only object is to enjoy the good of the 
society, and have my children educated and accom- 
plished. 

Am I to send my boys off to work alone, or will 
they have a kind friend to say, Come, boys ; and teach 
them how in love and good will, and relieve me of 
this heavy task of bringing up boys with nothing to 
do it with ? If your religion has a name I should 
like well enough to know it ; if not, and the sub- 
stance is love to God and good will to man, my mind 
is well enough satisfied. I have reflected upon this 



BROOK FARM. 143 

subject ever since I read the article alluded to, and 
now I want yon to write me every particular. Then, 
if yon and I think best in the spring, I will come to 
you. We are none of us what can be called weakly. 
I am forty-six years old, able to do as much every 
day as to spin what is called a clay's work. Not that 
I expect you spin much there, only that is the amount 
of my strength as it now holds out. I should wish 
to seek intelligence, which, as you must know, I lack 
greatly ; and I cannot endure the thought that my 
children must lack as greatly, while multitudes are 
going so far in advance, no better qualified by nature 
than they. I want you to send me quite a number 
of names of your leading characters ; if it should 
seem strange to you that I make the demand I will 
explain it to you when I get there. I want you to 
answer every item of this letter, and as much more 
as can have any bearing on my mind either way. 
Whether you accept this letter kindly or not, I want 
you to write me an answer without delay. Are there 
meetings for us to attend? Do you have singing 
schools ? I do thus far feel friendly to your society. 
Direct my letter to New York — 

To the leading members of the Eoxbury Commu- 
nity, near Boston. 

Dear Sir, — It gives me the most sincere pleas- 
ure to reply to the inquiries proposed in your favor 
of the 31st instant. I welcome the extended and 
increasing interest which is manifested in our appar- 
ently humble enterprise, as a proof that it is founded 



144 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

in nature and truth, and as a cheering omen of its 
ultimate success. Like yourself, we are seekers of 
universal truth. We worship only reality. We are 
striving to establish a mode of life which shall com- 
bine the enchantments of poetry with the facts of daily 
experience. This we believe can be done by a rigid 
adherence to justice, by fidelity to human rights, by 
loving and honoring man as man, by rejecting all ar- 
bitrary, factitious distinctions. We are not in the 
interest of any sect, party, or coterie ; we have faith 
in the soul of man, in the universal soul of things. 
Trusting to the might of benignant Providence which 
is over all, we are here sowing in weakness a seed 
which will be raised in power. But I need not dwell 
on these general considerations, with which you are 
doubtless familiar. 

In regard to the connection of a family with us, our 
arrangements are liberal and comprehensive. We 
are not bound by fixed rules which apply to all cases. 
One general principle we are obliged to adhere to 
rigidly : not to receive any person who would increase 
the expenses more than the revenue of the establish- 
ment. Within the limits of this principle we can 
make any arrangement which shall suit particular 
cases. 

A family with resources sufficient for self-support, 
independent of the exertion of its members, would 
find a favorable situation with us for the education 
of its children and for social enjoyment. An annual 
payment of $1,000 would probably cover the ex- 
penses of board and instruction, supposing that no 



BROOK FARM. 145 

services were rendered to diminish the expense. An 
investment of $5,000 would more than meet the orig- 
inal outlay required for a family of eight persons ; 
but in that case an additional appropriation would be 
needed, either of productive labor or of cash to meet 
the current expenditures. I forward you herewith a 
copy of our Prospectus, from which you will perceive 
that the w T hole expense of a pupil with us, including 
board in vacations, is $250 per annum ; but in case 
of one or more pupils remaining with us for a term 
of years, and assisting in the labors of the establish- 
ment, a deduction of one or two dollars per week 
would be made, according to the services rendered, 
until such time as, their education being so far com- 
pleted, they might defray all their expenses by their 
labor. In the case of your son fifteen years of age, it 
would be necessary for him to reside with us for three 
months, at least, on the usual terms ; and if, at the 
end of that time, his services should be found useful, 
he might continue by paying $150 or $200 per an- 
num, according to the value of his labors ; and if he 
should prove to have a gift for active industry, in 
process of time he might defray his whole expenses, 
complete his education, and be fitted for practical life. 
With the intelligent zeal which you manifest in our 
enterprise, I need not say that we highly value your 
sympathy, and should rejoice in any arrangement 
which might bring us into closer relations. It is only 
from the faith and love of those whose hearts are 
filled with the hopes of a better future for humanity 
that we look for the building up of our " city of God." 
10 



146 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

So far we have been prospered in our highest ex- 
pectations. We are more and more convinced of the 
beauty and justice of our mode of life. We love to 
breathe this pure, healthy atmosphere ; we feel that 
we are living in the bosom of Nature, and all things 
seem to expand under the freedom and truth which 
we worship in our hearts. 

I should regret to think that this was to be our last 
communication with each other. May I not hope to 
hear from you again ? And with the sincere wish 
that your views of the philosophy of life may bring 
you still nearer to us, I am, with great respect, 
Sincerely your friend, 

Geo. Ripley. 

This will serve to give an idea of Mr. Rip- 
ley's personal faith in the enterprise he had un- 
dertaken. The letter which follows is of similar 
purport. With him, as with his comrades, the 
enthusiasm was genuine and noble, the fruit of 
highest sentiment and serenest faith, — never 
gushing or windy, but calm, steady, luminous, 
and all the more penetrating because reposing 
on moral principles. Page after page of his 
note-books is filled with close calculations re- 
specting the capacity of land for tillage : so 
much corn to the acre, so much grain, so much 
clover, so much grass, fodder, root, potato, veg- 
etable, — all showing how practical was his en- 
thusiasm. 



BROOK FARM. 147 

My dear Sir, — I thank you for sending me the 
circular calling a convention at Skeneateles for the 
promotion of the community movement. I have just 
enjoyed a short visit from Mr. Collins, who explained 
to me very fully the purposes of the enterprise, and 
described the advantages of the situation which had 
been selected as the scene of the initiatory experi- 
ment. I hardly need to say that the movers in this 
noble effort have my warmest sympathy, and that if 
circumstances permitted I would not deprive myself 
of the privilege of being present at their delibera- 
tions. I am, however, just now so involved in cares 
and labors that I could not be absent for so lon^ a 
time without neglect of duty. 

Although my present strong convictions are in 
favor of cooperative association rather than of com- 
munity of property, I look with an indescribable in- 
terest on every attempt to redeem society from its 
corruptions. The evils arising from trade and money, 
it appears to me, grow out of the defects of our social 
organization, not from an intrinsic vice in the things 
themselves ; and the abolition of private property, I 
fear, would so far destroy the independence of the 
individual as to interfere with the great object of all 
social reforms ; namely, the development of human- 
ity, the substitution of a race of free, noble, holy men 
and women instead of the dwarfish and mutilated 
specimens which now cover the earth. The great 
problem is to guarantee individualism against the 
masses on the one hand, and the masses against the 
individual on the other. 



148 GEORGE RIPLEY 

In society as now organized the many are slaves tc 
a few favored individuals in a community. I should 
dread the bondage of the individual to the power of 
the masses ; while association, by identifying the in- 
terests of the many and the few, the less gifted and 
the highly gifted, secures the sacred personality of 
all, gives to each individual the largest liberty of the 
children of God. Sucli are my present views, sub- 
ject to any modification which farther light may pro- 
duce. Still I consider the great question of the means 
of human regeneration yet open ; indeed hardly 
touched as yet, and Heaven forbid that I should not 
at least give you my best wishes for the success of 
your important enterprise. In our own little Asso- 
ciation we practically adopt many community ele- 
ments. We are eclectics and learners ; but day by 
day increases our faith and joy in the principle of 
combined industry, and of bearing each other's bur- 
dens instead of seeking every man his own. It will 
give me great pleasure to hear from you whenever 
you may have anything to communicate interesting 
to the general movement. I feel that all who are 
seeking the emancipation of man are brothers, 
though differing in the measures which they may 
adopt for that purpose. And from our different 
points of view it is not perhaps presumption to hope 
that we may aid each other by faithfully reporting 
the aspects of earth and sky as they pass before our 
field of vision. One danger, of which no doubt you 
are aware, proceeds from the growing interest in the 
subject ; and that is, the crowd of converts who de- 



BROOK FARM. 149 

sire to help themselves rather than to help the move- 
ment. It is as true now as it was of old, that he 
who would follow this new Messiah must deny him- 
self, and take up his cross daily, or he cannot enter 
the promised kingdom. The path of transition is 
always covered with thorns, and marked with the 
bleeding feet of the faithful. This truth must not 
be covered up in describing the paradise for which 
we hope. We must drink the water of Marah in the 
desert, that others may feed on the grapes of Eshcol. 
We must depend on the power of self sacrifice in man, 
not on appeals to his selfish nature, for the success of 
our efforts. We should hardly be willing to accept 
of men or money unless called for by earnest convic- 
tions that they are summoned by a divine voice. I 
wish to hear less said to capitalists about a profitable 
investment of their funds, as if the holy cause of hu- 
manity was to be speeded onward by the same force 
which constructs railroads and ships of war. Rather 
preach to the rich, " Sell all that you have and give 
to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven.'' 

To the ordinary members of the Association 
the daily life was both stimulating and enter- 
taining. They had amusements in plenty. 
There was an Amusement Group, whose busi- 
ness it was to enliven the leisure hours with 
charades, tableaux, dances, picnics, theatricals, 
readings, games, diversions in the woods or in 
the house. Hawthorne describes a picnic party 
at Brook Farm, in which the grass, vines, trees, 



150 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

houses, cattle, gypsies, fortune-tellers, negroes, 
were combined picturesquely with the fanciful 
dresses of the more elegant spectators. " The 
household," he remarks, " being composed in 
great measure of children and young people, is 
generally a cheerful one enough eyen in gloomy 
weather." " It would," he says, " be difficult 
to conceive beforehand how much can be added 
to the enjoyment of a household by mere sun- 
niness of temper and liveliness of disposition." 
We may add that sunniness of temper became 
habitual and permanent, the exasperating causes 
of friction, so constant in ordinary existence, 
being removed. The innocent freedom of Brook 
Farm was stimulating to good-humor, and con- 
ducive to happy conditions of mind. A writer 
in " The Atlantic Monthly " of October, 1878, 
— a lady of much refinement, a good observer 
and a frank narrator, — sums up her experi- 
ence in these words : " Naturally exclusive and 
fastidious, a spell was woven around me which 
entered into my very heart, and led me to nobler 
and higher thoughts than the world ever gave 
me." Margaret Fuller was at first annoyed by 
the apparent rudeness of behavior, but was 
afterwards affected by the simplicity and sin- 
cerity she saw everywhere about her. " The 
first day or two here," she wrote, " is desolate. 
You seem to belong to nobody. But very soon 



BROOK FARM. 151 

you learn to take care of yourself, and the free- 
dom of the place is delightful.'' At one of her 
conversations she was disturbed by the care- 
less ways of the listeners. " The people showed 
a good deal of the sans eulotte tendency in 
their manner, throwing themselves on the floor, 
yawning, and going out when they had heard 
enough. Yet, as the majority differ from me 
to begin with, — that being the reason the sub- 
ject (education) was chosen, — they showed, on 
the whole, more respect and interest than I had 
expected." A year later she finds " the tone 
of society much sweeter. . . . There is a per- 
vading spirit of mutual tolerance with great 
sincerity. There is no longer a passion for 
grotesque freaks of liberty, but a disposition 
rather to study and enjoy the liberty of law." 
Her tribute to the consistent dignity of Mr. and 
Mrs. Ripley accords with the uniform testimony 
of all who had knowledge of the institution. 

To understand the spirit of Brook Farm, as 
it was illustrated in its details, one should read 
the articles in " The Atlantic Monthly " for 
1878, and in " Old and New " for February, 
April, and September, 1871, and May, 1872. 
Should Dr. J. T. Codman, of Boston, publish 
his " Recollections," all who are interested in 
the minute circumstances of the undertaking 
will have their curiosity abundantly gratified. 



/ 






152 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

The literature of Brook Farm is scattered, but 
it is not meagre, and it overflows with a spirit 
of joy. The magazine papers referred to are 
delightful contributions to the sum of mental 
entertainment. After making full allowance 
for the effect of distance in lending enchant- 
ment to the view, for the writer's desire to set 
forth the romantic aspects of a chosen theme, 
for the poetic sentiment which idealizes the 
past, and, in general, for an amiable disposition 
to recall only what was pleasant, there remains 
enough to make the outsider feel that for a 
buef period a truly golden age visited the earth. 
(Senilis, taste, invention, feeling, put forth their 
/best endeavors ; tempers were firm and fine ; 
excellent gifts were discovered and appreciated ; 
every kind of talent was exercised ; every spe- 
cies of good nature was encouraged ; every con- 
tribution, from the greatest to the least, was 
heartily welcomed. Spiritual and intellectual, 
as well as aesthetic, powers were in fairest bloom. 
They who would penetrate more deeply into 
the philosophical idea of the institution may 
consult Noyes's " History of American Social- 
isms," or Semler's fcfc Geschichte der Socialismus 
und Communismus in Nord America," but no 
formal treatise will convey the genius which in- 
spired and sustained Brook Farm. The editor 
of the New York "Sun," one of the earliest, 



BROOK FARM. 153 

ablest, most constant, and most influential 
friends of the enterprise, said, in a keenly dis- 
cerning and soberly eulogistic article on Mr. 
Ripley, then just deceased : " It is not too much 
to say, that every person who was at Brook 
Farm for any length of time has ever since 
looked back upon it with a feeling of satisfac- 
tion, y The healthy mixture of manual and in- 
tellectual labor, the kindly and unaffected social 
relations, the absence of everything like assump- 
tion or servility, the amusements, the discus- 
sions, the friendships, the ideal and poetical at- 
mosphere which gave a charm to life, — all these 
combine to create a picture toward which the 
mind turns back with pleasure, as to something 
distant and beautiful, not elsewhere met with 
amid the routine of this world."/ Hawthorne, 
notwithstanding a certain amount of personal 
disappointment, and a rather passionately ex- 
pressed opinion against its principle of combin- 
ing intellectual with manual labor, could speak, 
in 1852, of " his old and affectionately remem- 
bered home at Brook Farm " as being " cer- 
tainly the most romantic episode in his life." 
It is unnecessary to repeat here what has been 
said so often and so authoritatively, that the 
" Blithedale Romance " simply borrowed from 
Brook Farm some suggestions of character and 
a few touches of local color, but was neither in- 



154 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

tended nor received as an account of the Asso- 
ciation. The artist did as painters do, — used 
the material in his possession, and produced his 
effects by such combinations as suited his pur- 
poses. His work reflects upon Brook Farm nei- 
ther credit nor discredit. In 1877 a pupil of 
Brook Farm, living in Boston, made an effort 
to bring together the old brotherhood for a few 
hours of social enjoyment. They were widely 
separated ; they had become old ; they were 
worn by toil and care ; they were absorbed in 
life's relations and occupied with life's duties. 
But they replied in terms of gratitude for the 
remembrance, of affection towards their former 
comrades, and of confidence in the principles of 
their ancient organization. The leader wrote : 
" Brook Farm may well point to the children 
who graced her social circles so long time ago, 
and who have since ripened into strong men 
and noble women, saying, with the modest pride 
of the Roman matron, 4 These are my jewels.' ' 
Mr. Dana recalled the past affectionately, ac- 
knowledging it as a " great pleasure to look 
back upon the days when we were together, 
and to believe that the ends for which we then 
labored are sure at last, in good time, to be 
realized for mankind." Mr. Channing wrote : 
u The faith and longing for the perfect organi- 
zation of society have only deepened with time." 



BROOK FARM. 155 

Another said : " Were I not occupied exactly as 
I am, I should indulge myself, at the cost of a 
good deal of effort even, in the pleasure of a 
meeting with fellow-laborers whose faith in the 
truth of our social principles has never faltered, 
I am sure, any more than my own." Another 
wrote : " There is no part of my past life that I 
recall more frequently than that spent at Brook 
Farm." Another wished that his " children 
could live under such influences, that, on the 
whole, were so pure and refined." Yet another 
" modest worker " recorded his faith that, " al- 
though the original objects of the Association 
were never accomplished exactly as proposed," 
he has always felt, in his own case, that he 
" derived a lasting impulse and gain from the 
connection." 

The daily life at Brook Farm was, of course, 
extremely simple, even homely. The meals 
were eaten in the common dining-room, the veg- 
etarians, of whom there were several, occupying 
a table by themselves. The food was plain. 
There were no hired waiters. The benches 
were of pine wood, without backs. There was 
a general parlor, and a reading-room well sup- 
plied with journals and daily papers. Those 
who had books readily lent them to such as 
wished them, or contributed tham to the com- 
munity. Mr. Ripley had his library at the 



156 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

" Eyrie," as the house was called. There were 
no separate parlors. The only kitchen was in 
the " Hive." As the members increased, addi- 
tional accommodation was provided by the erec- 
tion of new buildings, but there was at no time 
too much room for the one hundred and fifty 
inmates. The forms of courtesy were at all 
times observed, something better than polite- 
ness prompting the associates to make them- 
selves pleasant to their companions. There 
were naturally few rules, but such as existed 
were cheerfully obeyed. The highest moral 
refinement prevailed in all departments. In 
the morning, every species of industrial activ- 
ity went on. In the afternoon, the laborers 
changed their garments and became teachers, 
often of abstruse branches of knowledge. The 
evenings were devoted to such recreations as 
suited the taste of the individual. The farm 
was never thoroughly tilled, from the want of 
sufficient hands. A good deal of hay was raised, 
and milk was produced from a dozen cows. The 
milk was sold to outside consumers, and the 
vegetables, so far as they were not wanted in 
the Association, were sent to the nearest mar- 
ket. Some worked all day in the field, some 
only a few hours, some none at all, being oth- 
erwise employed, or by some reason disqual- 
ified. The most cultivated worked the hard- 



BROOK FARM. 1,37 

est. Labor-saving machines were introduced or 

invented; but, although all worked who could, 
the labor to be done was always in excess of the 
laborers. 

The serious difficulties were financial. These 
pressed heavily on the directors, for no indus- 
try, no patience, no devotion will carry on an 
enterprise without money. None of the mem- 
bers were rich ; most of them were poor ; the 
ablest were only moderately well-to-do. The 
trades lacked a market, and therefore did not 
thrive. The manufacture of Britannia ware, 
lamps and so forth, had limited encouragement ; 
the sash and blind maker had leisure in excess 
of his orders ; the shoe business languished. 
The farm yielded but moderate returns beyond 
the actual needs of the community. None of 
the lighter industries — nursery, garden, green- 
house — paid anything. The necessity of meet- 
ing the clues of interest on capital advanced 
about exhausted the proceeds of the school, 
which was much the most lucrative department 
of the institution. The public took no "solid" 
interest in the concern. The experienced men 
who were there brought little beside their skill. 
The subjoined condensed report best tells this 
par : of the story. 

" The direction of finance respectfully submit their 
Annual Report for the year ending October 31, 
1844 : — 



158 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

The income of the Association during the year 
from all sources whatever, has been . . . $11,854.41 

And its expenditures for all purposes, includ- 
ing interest, losses by bad debts, and damage of 
buildings and tools and furniture . . . 10,409.14 

Leaving a balance of $1,445.27 

From which, deducting the amount of doubtful 

debts contracted this year 284.43 



which is to be divided according to the Consti- 
tution, we have $1,160.84 

By the last yearly report of this direction it ap- 
peared that the Association had been a loser up to 
November 1, 1843, to the amount of $2,748.83. In 
this amount were included sundry debts against asso- 
ciates amounting to $924.38, which should not have 
been included. There were also some small discrep- 
ancies, which were afterwards discovered, so that on 
settling the books the entire deficit appeared to be 
$1,837. To this amount should be added the pro- 
portion of the damage done to the tools, furniture, and 
general fixtures, and depreciation in the live stock, 
by the use of the two years which the Association 
had been in operation previous to that time. The 
whole damage of this property by the use of these 
years has been ascertained by inventory to be $365.54, 
according to the estimates and statements prepared 
by Messrs. Byckman and Hastings, which are here- 
with submitted. Of this sum, $365.54, we have one 
third, $121.85, to the account of the current y ; 3ar ; 
and two thirds, $243.69, to the account of the two 
preceding years. To the same account should also 



BROOK FARM. If, 9 

be added sundry debts which have since proved to 
be bad, amounting to $678.08 ; and also an error in 

fav^or of , amounting to $17.74, which has since 

been discovered in his account, so that the total 
deficit of the preceding years will appear to be as 
follows : — 

Deficit on settling the books $1,837.00 

Damage on furniture and fixtures . . . 243.69 

Bad debts, including debts of associates, considered 

doubtful 698.08 

J. Morton 17.74 



Total, $2,776.51 

From this amount is to be deducted the value of 
the farm produce, consisting of hay, roots, manures, 
etc., on hand November 1, 1843, which was not 
taken into the account of last year ; but which has 
been ascertained to be $762.50, as well as the value 
$49.13 of the family stores which were on hand at 
the same time, but were also omitted from the ac- 
count. Deducting these two amounts, $762.50 and 
$49.13 ($811.63), from the deficit as above stated, 
we have : — 

Deficit ... $2,776.51 

Farm produce and family stores . . . . 811.63 

Real deficit for 1842 and 1843 .... $1,964.88 

It was the opinion of a majority at least of this 
board that this sum must be chargeable upon the 
future industry of the Association, and that no divi- 
dend could be declared until it had been made up. 
Accordingly the quarterly statement for the quarter 



160 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ending August 1, 1844, was based upon this opinion, 
and a deficit of $526.78 declared to exist at that time. 
It is but justice to say that this statement was made 
up in the absence of one of the members of the di- 
rection, who, on seeing it, objected entirely to the 
principle which it embodied. 

The earlier losses of the establishment must be 
regarded as the price of much valuable experience, 
and as inevitable in starting such an institution. 
Almost every business fails to pay its expenses at 
the commencement ; it always costs something to set 
the wheels in operation ; this is not, however, to be 
regarded as absolute loss. This is the view which is 
to be taken of the condition of the Association at the 
beginning of the present year : a certain sum had 
been expended in establishing the Association, but it 
is not therefore a loss, but only so much capital in- 
vested, and well and profitably invested. 

To some persons it may perhaps seem remarkable 
that a dividend should be declared, when the Associ- 
ation is so much in want of ready money as at pres- 
ent ; but a little reflection will show any one that it 
is a perfectly legitimate proceeding. A very large 
part of our industry has been engaged in the produc- 
tion of permanent property such as the shop, the 
phalanstery, and the improvements upon the farm. 
These are of even more value to the Association than 
so much money, and a dividend may as justly be 
based upon them as upon cash in the treasury. 

In the schedule marked " D " is contained a 
statement of the debts of the Association contracted 



BROOK FARM. 161 

since April 17, 1844, by which it appears that those 
debts amount to $809.96. Of this amount the bills 
of Messrs. Guild and Hartshorn for blacksmithing, 
$99.39, are provided for and will presently be set- 
tled. 

The schedule marked G contains a statement of 
the time employed by individual associates in labor ; 
and in the schedule marked H is contained a similar 
account of the time employed in labor by the differ- 
ent probationers. 

According to the Constitution, Art. III., Section 
4, pupils over ten years of age and probationers are 
entitled to no fixed dividend, but to such an amount as 
the Association may decide. In the case of pupils the 
direction have not thought that any dividend should 
be awarded. To the probationers the direction would 
recommend that two thirds of a full dividend should 
be allowed, which is the proportion that they were 
thought to be entitled to in fixing the amount of their 
stipend. 

In Schedule C is contained a statement of the 
amount of interest and insurance which the Associa- 
tion is now paying, which appears to be $1,752.44. 

As soon as the phalanstery shall be completed, it 
will become necessary to establish different rates of 
room rent. It is a matter of doubt whether such an 
arrangement is not already desirable. In our pres- 
ent crowded condition indeed the general inconven- 
iences are distributed with tolerable equality ; but 
still it is impossible to avoid some exceptions, and it 
might contribute to the harmony of the Association 
11 



162 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

if a just graduation of rates for different apartments 
should now be established. As far as possible no 
member should be the recipient of peculiar favors ; 
but where all are charged at an equal rate for un- 
equal accommodations this is unavoidable. For the 
same reason a difference should be made between the 
price of board at the Graham tables and those which 
are furnished with a different kind of food. It is only 
by this means that justice can be done and the con- 
stant recurrence of very unpleasant difficulties pre- 
vented. 

This direction would also call the attention of the 
Association to the necessity of instituting suitable 
regulations respecting the absence of members. The 
right to withdraw from the labors of the Association 
is laid down in the Constitution, Art. III., Section 3, 
together with the conditions of doing so ; but of ab- 
sence from the Association and its conditions nothing 
is said, either in the Constitution or the By-Laws. It 
is plain, however, that the absence of any members 
from the place for personal purposes ought not to ab- 
solve them from the pecuniary responsibilities of the 
relation. An equitable share of the current general 
expenses should be borne by all members when ab- 
sent as well as when present. The services of each 
member are, by the terms of the compact, supposed 
to be of value to the whole phalanx over and above 
the guaranties and dividends which he receives as a 
compensation. When he withdraws from labor and 
yet remains upon the place, this is made up by his 
paying the full price for board and other articles fur- 



BROOK FARM. 163 

nished him ; but when he is absent from the place, it 
is not, according to our present arrangements, made 
up in any way whatever. 

It is also the opinion of the direction that the time 
has arrived when the natural differences in labor 
should be recognized and different rates of compensa- 
tion for attractive, useful, and necessary labor estab- 
lished. In the earlier stages of the enterprise it was, 
perhaps, not necessary that this should be done, but 
at present it ought not to be deferred. Indeed, the 
whole organization of industrv should be brought to 
a greater degree of scientific completeness. It is re- 
markable that in all young associations much labor 
seems to be lost ; no man appears to accomplish his 
usual amount of work. This evil can be remedied 
only by perfecting our groups and series according to 
scientific principles. The results of the year just 
passed, not brilliant certainly, but yet highly encour- 
aging, are mainly owing to the imperfect approach to 
such principles which we have been able to introduce. 
Even with the present arrangements we presume that 
the results of next year's settlement might considera- 
bly exceed those of the present, but they must still 
fall far short of what we wish for. Our object will 
not be gained until we show practically that associ- 
ated industry gives a product far superior to that of 
" civilized " industry. The establishment of the three 
great divisions of labor of which we have spoken, and 
such other alterations in the general regulations re- 
specting labor as will bring them nearer to justice and 
to scientific truth, will be important steps to this end. 



164 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

But we are convinced that it can be fully reached 
only by perfectly arranged groups and series, and we 
may be sure that the industrial capacities of the As- 
sociation will increase in compound proportion to the 
completeness with which it attains to a regular serial 
order in all departments, and to its general harmony. 
In conclusion, the direction would respectfully urge 
this subject upon the attention of the Association as 
one of great and pressing importance. 

Charles Anderson Dana, Chairman. 
Brook Farm, December 15, 1844. 

Through all this embarrassment Mr. Ripley 
kept his serenity undisturbed. More than that, 
he was cheerful and even gay. No cloud was 
seen on his face. He had pleasant words for 
all. His voice was musical, his manner bright. 
Thinking, working with hand, head, heart : ad- 
vising, directing, talking philosophy with Theo- 
dore Parker, talking farming with Minot Pratt, 
writing diplomatic letters, milking cows, carry- 
ing vegetables to market, cleaning the stable, — 
he was still the same sunny-tempered man, true 
to his ideal, and true to himself. His devoted 
wife toiled and served at his side unmurmur- 
ingly. For ten hours at a time she has been 
known to labor in the muslin rbtun. With her 
hands in the wash-tub, or her knees on the 
scrubbing floor, she would still entertain her 
fellow-workers by her smiling wit. Making 



BROOK FARM. 165 

courteous apologies to her city friends for not 
receiving or returning their visits, she never de- 
clined repulsive duty or uncongenial compan- 
ionship. A diligent and laborious housekeeper, 
she was yet so attentive to her classes that in 
two years she missed only two recitations ; and 
with all this, she was so unassuming that her 
name scarcely appears on the record of Brook 
Farm. She was an adviser, too, — one of the 
Council, — as intimately connected with the ad- 
ministration of the community as with its toils. 
Much of the energy of Mr. and Mrs. Ripley 
must have been due to sheer character. None 
had so much to lose as they. Upon none did 
the burden of care rest so heavily. They had 
less share than the rest in the amusements and 
recreations of the place. They were no longer 
young. They had already a background of dis- 
appointment. In thoughtful hours their future 
must have seemed precarious. But nothing of 
this appeared. From morning till night they 
upheld the courage and faith of those younger 
and less anxious than themselves. This they 
did, every day, for six or seven years, waiting 
and hoping, refusing to be discouraged, conceal- 
ing from others, as far as possible hiding from 
themselves, the suspicion that the prayer, " Thy 
will be done on earth as it is in heaven," was 
not so near being answered as they had be- 
lieved. 



CHAPTER IV. 

BROOK FARM. — FOURIERISM. 

Thus far there had been no organization. In 
fact, disorganization had been the rule of the in- 
stitution. The name was an after-thought. The 
Constitution was not written till the experi- 
ment was several months old. The principle 
of freedom from all restraints but those of rea- 
son and conscience made the managers jealous 
even of apparent control. The policy of non- 
intervention was carried as far as it could be 
without incurring the risk of anarchy. This 
was not unfitly called the "transcendental" pe- 
riod. It was charming, but unprofitable in a 
worldly sense. As early as 1843 the wisdom of 
making changes in the direction of scientific 
arrangement was agitated ; in the first months 
of 1844 the reformation was seriously begun. 
On January 15, 1844, W. H. Channing, editor 
of the " Present," a weekly paper begun in 
September, 1843, published in New York, wrote 
a glowing account of a convention which had 
been held at Boston on the last week of Decem- 
ber, 1843, and the first week of January, 1844, 



BROOK FARM. — FOURIERISM. 167 

in behalf of Fourierism. In the closing num- 
ber of the "Dial," April, 1844, Miss E. P. 
Peabody called attention to the same meeting. 
The attendance was considerable, and the in- 
terest so great that the convention, which was 
to have broken up on Wednesday, held over 
through Thursday and Friday. At this con- 
vention Brook Farm was represented, and Mr. 
Ripley made an earnest speech. The " Pha- 
lanx " — an organ of Fourier's doctrine, also 
published in New York since October, 1843 — 
welcomed Brook Farm to the scientific frater- 
nity in an article printed February 5, 1844. In 
connection with the proposed transformation, 
the directors of the Brook Farm Association 
published a second edition of their Constitu- 
tion, with the following " Introductory State- 
ment." We print the statement, which shows 
how early the change to Fourierism was virtu- 
ally made. That so complete a revolution was 
effected without long and eager discussion, some 
misgiving, much criticism, and a good deal of 
discontent, especially among the irresponsible 
members, is not to be supposed. The idyllic 
phase of Brook Farm was well-nigh ended. 

INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT. 

The Association at Brook Farm has now been in 
existence upwards of two years. Originating in the 



168 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

thought and experience of a few individuals, it has 
hitherto worn for the most part the character of a 
private experiment, and has avoided rather than 
sought the notice of the public. It has, until the 
present time, seemed fittest to those engaged in this 
enterprise to publish no statements of their purposes 
or methods, to make no promises or declarations, but 
quietly and sincerely to realize, as far as might be 
possible, the great ideas which gave the central im- 
pulse to their movement. It has been thought that 
a steady endeavor to embody these ideas more and 
more perfectly in life would give the best answer, 
both to the hopes of the friendly and the cavils of the 
skeptical, and furnish in its results the surest grounds 
for any larger efforts. 

Meanwhile, every step has strengthened the faith 
with which we set out ; our belief in a divine order 
of human society has in our own minds become an 
absolute certainty ; and considering the present state 
of humanity and of social science, we do not hesitate 
to affirm that the world is much nearer the attainment 
of such a condition than is generally supposed. 

The deep interest in the doctrine of Association, 
which now fills the minds of intelligent persons every- 
where, indicates plainly that the time has passed when 
even initiative movements ought to be prosecuted in 
silence, and makes it imperative on all who have 
either a theoretical or practical knowledge of the sub- 
ject to give their share to the stock of public infor- 
mation. 

Accordingly we have taken occasion, at several 



BROOK FARM. — F0URIER1SM. 169 

public meetings recently held in Boston, to state some 
of the results of our studies and experience, and we 
desire here to say emphatically, that while, on the 
one hand, we yield an unqualified assent to that doc- 
trine of universal unity which Fourier teaches, so, 
on the other, our whole observation has shown us the 
truth of the practical arrangements which he deduces 
therefrom. The law of groups and series is, we are 
convinced, the law of human nature, and when men 
are in true social relations, their industrial organiza- 
tion will necessarily assume those forms. 

But beside the demand for information respecting 
the principles of Association, there is a deeper call 
for action in the matter. We wish, therefore, to 
bring Brook Farm before the public, as a location 
offering at least as great advantages for a thorough 
experiment as can be found in the vicinity of Bos- 
ton. It is situated in West Roxbury, three miles 
from the depot of the Dedham Branch Railroad, and 
about eight miles from Boston, and combines a con- 
venient nearness to the city with a degree of retire- 
ment and freedom from unfavorable influences, unu- 
sual even in the country. The place is one of great 
natural beauty, and, indeed, the whole landscape is 
so rich and various as to attract the notice even of 
casual visitors. The farm now owned by the Asso- 
ciation contains two hundred and eight acres, of as 
good quality as any land in the neighborhood of Bos- 
ton, and can be enlarged by the purchase of land ad- 
joining to any necessary extent. The property now 
in the hands of the Association is worth nearly or 



170 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

i 

quite thirty thousand dollars, of which about twenty- 
two thousand dollars is invested either in the stock 
of the company, or in permanent loans to it at six 
per cent., which can remain as long as the Association 
may wish. 

The fact that so large an amount of capital is al- 
ready invested and at our service as the basis of more 
extensive operations, furnishes a reason why Brook 
Farm should be chosen as the scene of that practical 
trial of Association which the public feeling calls for 
in this immediate vicinity, instead of forming an en- 
tirely new organization for that purpose. 

The completeness of our educational department 
is also not to be overlooked. This has hitherto re- 
ceived our greatest care, and in forming it we have 
been particularly successful. In any new Association 
it must be many years before so many accomplished 
and skillful teachers in the various branches of intel- 
lectual culture could be enlisted. Another strong 
reason is to be found in the degree of order our or- 
ganization has already attained, by the help of which 
a large Association might be formed without the 
losses and inconveniences which would otherwise nec- 
essarily occur. The experience of nearly three years 
in all the misfortunes and mistakes incident to an 
undertaking so new and so little understood, carried 
on throughout by persons not entirely fitted for the 
duties they have been compelled to perform, has, as 
we think, prepared us to assist in the safe-conduct of 
an extensive and complete Association. 

Such an institution, as will be plain to all, cannot, 



BROOK FARU. — FOURIERISM. 171 

by any sure means, be brought at once and full grown 
into existence. It must, at least in the present state 
of society, begin with a comparatively small number 
of select and devoted persons, and increase by natu- 
ral and gradual aggregations. With a view to an 
ultimate expansion into a perfect Phalanx, we desire 
without any delay to organize the three primary de- 
partments of labor, namely, Agriculture, Domestic 
Industry, and the Mechanic Arts. 

For this purpose, additional capital will be needed, 
which it is most desirable should be invested by those 
who propose to connect themselves personally with 
the institution. These should be men and women ac- 
customed to labor, skillful, careful, in good health, 
and, more than all, imbued with the idea of Associa- 
tion, and ready to consecrate themselves without re- 
serve to its realization. For it ought to be known 
that the work we propose is a difficult one, and, ex- 
cept to the most entire faith and resolution, will offer 
insurmountable obstacles and discouragements. Nei- 
ther will it be possible to find in Association, at the 
outset, the great outward advantages it ultimately 
promises. The first few years must be passed in con- 
stant and unwearied labor, lightened chiefly by the 
consciousness of high aims and the inward content 
that devotion to a universal object cannot fail to 
bring. Still there are certain tangible compensations 
which Association guarantees immediately. These 
are freedom from pecuniary anxiety and the evils of 
competitive industry, free and friendly society, and 
the education of children. How great these are, 



172 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

those who have felt the terrible burdens which the 
present civilized society imposes in these respects will 
not need to be informed. 

Those who may wish to further this cause by in- 
vestments of money only, will readily perceive that 
their end is not likely to be lost in an Association 
whose means are devoted mainly to productive indus- 
try, and where nothing will ever be risked in uncer- 
tain speculations. 

The following Constitution is the same as that un- 
der which we have hitherto acted, with such altera- 
tions as, on a careful revision, seemed needful. All 
persons who are not familiar with the purposes of 
Association will understand from this document that 
we propose a radical and universal reform, rather 
than to redress any particular wrong, or to remove 
the sufferings of any single class of human beings. 
"We do this in the light of universal principles, in 
which all differences, whether of religion, or politics, 
or philosophy, are reconciled, and the dearest and 
most private hope of every man has the promise of 
fulfillment. Herein, let it be understood, we would 
remove nothing that is truly beautiful or venerable ; 
we reverence the religious sentiment in all its forms, 
the family, and whatever else has its foundation either 
in human nature or the Divine Providence. The 
work we are engaged in is not destruction, but true 
conservation ; it is not a mere revolution, but, as we 
are assured, a necessary step in the course of social 
progress which no one can be blind enough to think 
has yet reached its limit. We believe that humanity, 



BROOK FARM.—FOURIERISM. 173 

trained by these long centuries of suffering and strug- 
gle, led onward by so many saints and heroes and 
sages, is at length prepared to enter into that univer- 
sal order towards which it has perpetually moved. 
Thus we recognize the worth of the whole Past, and 
of every doctrine and institution it has bequeathed 
us ; thus, also, we perceive that the Present has its 
own high mission, and we shall only say what is be- 
ginning to be seen by all sincere thinkers, when we 
declare that the imperative duty of this time and this 
country, — nay more, that its only salvation, and the 
salvation of all civilized countries, — lies in the re- 
organization of society, according to the unchanging 
laws of human nature and of universal harmony. 

We look, then, to the generous and hopeful of all 
classes for sympathy, for encouragement, and for act- 
ual aid, not to ourselves only, but to all those who 
are engaged in this great work. And, whatever may 
be the result of any special efforts, we can never 
doubt that the object we have in view will finally be 
attained ; that human life shall yet be developed, not 
in discord and misery, but in harmony and joy, and 
the perfected earth shall at last bear on her bosom a 
race of men worthy of the name. 

George Ripley, \ 
Minot Pratt, > Directors. 

Charles A. Dana, ) 
Brook Farm, West Roxbury, 
January 18, 1844. 

The most prominent person associated with 
the name and doctrines of Fourier in this coun- 



174 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

try, and the most powerful instrument in the 
conversion of Brook Farm, was Mr. Albert Bris- 
bane. He had studied the system in France, 
and made it his business to introduce it here. 
His book, " The Social Destiny of Man," was 
published in 1840; in 1843 the New York 
"Tribune" opened its columns to him; in the 
autumn of the same year the monthly " Pha- 
lanx" was started. Mr. Brisbane was inter- 
ested in the Brook Farm experiment, and nat- 
urally desirous of giving it a more scientific 
basis. He came there often, at first spending 
a few days, but finally residing there several 
months. He took no part in the manual labor 
of the place, but devoted himself to the transla- 
tion of Fourier's Works and to the exposition 
of his theory. He was a man of ability and 
enthusiasm, an intellectual visionary. To his 
fancy the heavens were opened to Fourier, and 
the kingdom of God was ready to descend from 
the clouds upon his disciples. In the mere name 
" Phalanx," he seemed to hear the trumpets of 
the angels. It is probable that from him came 
the earliest knowledge of Fourier's system, as 
well as the impulse to convert to it the leaders 
of the movement in West Roxbury. On the 4th 
of April, 1844, a convention of Associationists 
was held in Clinton Hall, New York. George 
Ripley presided ; among the Vice-Presidents 



BROOK FARM. — FOURTERISM. 175 

were Horace Greeley, Albert Brisbane, and 
Charles A. Dana ; the business committee com- 
prised, besides those already named, Parke God- 
win and William H. Channing. The spirit of 
Fourier ruled the convention, though exception 
was taken to such of his doctrines as, in the 
opinion of the more sober-minded or scrupulous, 
were inconsistent with the precepts of the New 
Testament, or the established customs of society 
in New England. The speeches were eloquent, 
the letters were glowing, the resolutions were 
brave. Burning words fell as from inspired 
lips. Channing, Dana, Greeley, Godwin — each 
in characteristic style and all with deep sincerity 
— poured out their souls; Mr. Solyman Brown 
of the Leroysville Phalanx, recited an ode, en- 
titled " Visions of the Future." The convention 
was closed with prayer and benediction. 

The change to Fonrierism introduced essen- 
tial modifications into the Constitution of Brook 
Farm ; a different class of people, more prac- 
tical and prosaic, came thither. It may be ques- 
tioned whether the revolution had the sympa- 
thy of Mrs. Ripley ; but Mr. Ripley threw him- 
self into it with all his ardor, doing his utmost 
to make it successful. He wrote, talked, lect- 
ured, illustrating by word and example the new 
gospel of labor and love, which to him was an- 
other edition of the Gospel of Christ. In March, 



176 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

1845, the " Brook Farm Phalanx " was incor- 
porated by the Legislature of Massachusetts. 
The Constitution breathes a spirit of hope which 
is pathetic at this distance of time, as we look 
back on the failure of every similar undertak- 
ing, and see how helplessly astray was every 
one of these attempts to reconstruct the social 
order ; but they reveal a loftiness of sentiment 
and a vigor of thought which would do honor, 
under any circumstances, to human nature. The 
"common sense" of the world has sufficiently 
vindicated itself in their destruction ; let Faith 
and Aspiration rejoice in their inauguration 
and purpose. The sternness of the waking does 
not destroy the beauty of the dream. 

The publication of the Constitution was fol- 
lowed in the summer by " The Harbinger," 
which became the leading journal of Fourierism 
in the country. The first number appeared on 
June 14th. It was a handsome sheet of sixteen 
pages, printed in quarto form. Its list of con- 
tributors was about the most remarkable ever 
presented. Besides Ripley, D wight, Dana, and 
Rykman, of Brook Farm, there were Brisbane, 
Channing, Curtis, Cranch, Godwin, Greeley, 
Lowell, Whittier, Story, Higginson, to say noth- 
ing of gentlemen less known in literature, jour- 
nalism, art, and business. The number of Mr. 
Ripley's papers, longer and shorter, is over 



BROOK FARM.—FOURIERISM. 177 

three hundred. He and Mr. Dana wrote most 
of the editorial articles, in the interest of Asso- 
ciation ; Mr. Dana noticed the new books, was 
the chief reviewer ; John S. D wight had charge 
of the musical and poetical department, but did 
not confine himself to it, his zeal prompting 
him to publish papers advocating Association 
in general and Fourier's doctrines in particular; 
G. W. Curtis was a regular New York corre- 
spondent, reporting mainly the news in the 
musical world; W. H. Channing and Parke 
Godwin translated or selected from Fourier's 
writings ; Whittier sent a poem, " To my 
Friend on the Death of his Sister ; " Lowell, 
Cranch, Higginson, and Story appear as poets, 
as do also Dwight and Dana. So many brill- 
iant men excited interest in the paper, and 
would have insured its success, if brilliancy 
alone would do it ; but even genius, though 
united with enthusiasm, will not propel a ship 
in a dead calm, or sustain a kite in a lifeless air. 
Here is the prospectus : — 

"THE HARBINGER:" 

Devoted to Social and Political Progress : Pub- 
lished simultaneously at New York and Boston, by 
the Brook Farm Phalanx. 

" All things, at the present day, stand provided 
and prepared, and await the light." 
12 



178 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Under this title it is proposed to publish a weekly 
newspaper for the examination and discussion of the 
great questions in social science, politics, literature, 
and the arts, which command the attention of all be- 
lievers in the progress and elevation of humanity. 

In politics " The Harbinger " will be democratic 
in its principles and tendencies; cherishing the deep- 
est interest in the advancement and happiness of the 
masses ; warring against all exclusive privilege in 
legislation, political arrangements, and social cus- 
toms ; and striving, with the zeal of earnest convic- 
tion, to promote the triumph of the high democratic 
faith which it is the chief mission of the nineteenth 
century to realize in society. Our devotion to the 
democratic principle will lead us to take the ground 
of fearless and absolute independence in regard to all 
political parties, whether professing attachment to 
that principle or hostility to it. We know that fidel- 
ity to an idea can never be measured by adherence 
to a name ; and hence we shall criticise all parties 
with equal severity, though we trust that the stern- 
ness of truth will always be blended with the tem- 
perance of impartial candor. With tolerance for all 
opinions, we have no patience with hypocrisy and 
pretense ; least of all with that specious fraud which 
would make a glorious principle the apology for per- 
sonal ends. It will therefore be a leading object of 
" The Harbinger " to strip the disguise from the pre- 
vailing parties, to show them in their true light, to 
give them due honor, to tender them our grateful 
reverence whenever we see them true to a noble 



BROOK FARU. — FOURIERISM. 179 

principle ; but at all times, and on every occasion, to 
expose false professions, to hold up hollow-hearted- 
ness and duplicity to just indignation, to warn the 
people against the demagogue who would cajole them 
by honeyed flatteries, no less than against the devotee 
of Mammon who would make them his slaves. 

M The Harbinger " will be devoted to the cause of 
a radical, organic, social reform, essential to the high- 
est development of man's nature, to the production 
of these elevated and beautiful forms of character of 
which he is capable, and to the diffusion of happi- 
ness, excellence, and universal harmony upon the 
earth. The principles of universal unity as taught 
by Charles Fourier, in their application to society, 
we believe are at the foundation of all genuine social 
progress ; and it will ever be our aim to discuss and 
defend these principles without any sectarian bigotry, 
and in the catholic and comprehensive spirit of their 
great discoverer. While we bow to no man as an 
authoritative, infallible master, we revere the genius 
of Fourier too highly not to accept with joyful wel- 
come the light which he has shed on the most intri- 
cate problems of human destiny. 

The social reform, of whose advent the signs are 
everywhere visible, comprehends all others ; and in 
laboring for its speedy accomplishment, we are con- 
scious of devotion to the enslaved, to the promotion 
of genuine temperance, and to the elevation of the 
toiling and down-trodden masses to the inborn rights 
of humanity. 

In literature " The Harbinger " will exercise a firm 



180 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

and impartial criticism without respect of persons or 
parties. It will be made a vehicle for the freest 
thought, though not of random speculations ; and 
with a generous appreciation of the various forms 
of truth and beauty, it will not fail to expose such 
instances of false sentiment, perverted taste and erro- 
neous opinion, as may tend to vitiate the public mind 
or degrade the individual character. Nor will the 
literary department of " The Harbinger " be limited 
to criticism alone. It will receive contributions from 
various pens in different spheres of thought ; and, 
free from dogmatic exclusiveness, will accept all that 
in any way indicates the unity of man with Man, 
with Nature, and with God. Consequently, all true 
science, all poetry and art, all sincere literature, all 
religion that is from the soul, all wise analyses of 
mind and character, will come within its province. 

We appeal for aid in our enterprise to the earnest 
and hopeful spirits in all classes of society. We ap- 
peal to all who, suffering from a restless discontent 
in the present order of things, with faith in man 
and trust in God, are striving for the establishment 
of universal justice, harmony, and love. We appeal 
to the thoughtful, the aspiring, the generous every- 
where, who wish to see the reign of heavenly truth 
triumphant by supplanting the infernal discords and 
falsehoods on which modern society is built, for their 
sympathy, friendship, and practical cooperation in 
the undertaking which we announce to-day. 

The energy with which Mr. Ripley threw 
himself into the work of establishing a Phalanx 



BROOK FARM. — FOURIERTSM. 181 

at Brook Farm, on Fourier's system, may be in- 
ferred from the following letter of Mr. Brisbane, 
which belongs to this period. The translations 
spoken of were made from the writings of Fou- 
rier, and may be found in the second volume of 
the " Sociological Series," published in New 
York by C. P. Somerby, 1876. A lecture on 
Fourier, mostly biographical, delivered at this 
time, exists in manuscript ; it is remarkable 
chiefly for its charming clearness of style, and 
the firm conviction of its tone, but makes no at- 
tempt at exposition. 

New York, December 9, 1845. 
My dear Ripley, — Yours of the 3d, post-marked 
the oth, came to hand yesterday. I note all its con- 
tents in relation to your views upon the necessity of 
developing Brook Farm. The reason why I have 
spoken in some of my last letters of the best means 
of bringing B. F. to a close, and making preparations 
for a trial under more favorable circumstances, is 
this : In the middle of November I received a letter 
from Charles Dana, in which, in speaking of the va- 
rioloid, he stated the difficulties you have to contend 
with, and expressed fears for the future in such a 
way, that I concluded you had made up your minds 
to bring things to a close. I feared that Morton 
might be foreclosing his mortgage, which would be 
a most serious affair. This was the cause of my ad- 
verting to a possible dissolution, and the necessity of 
looking ahead to meet in the best and most proper 
manner such a contingency. 



182 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

As to my opinion of what is to be done, it is easily 
explained. 1st. We must raise a sufficient amount of 
capital, — and the amount must not be small. 2d. 
When that is secured, we must prepare and work out 
a plan of scientific organization, sufficiently complete 
in its details to serve as a guide in organizing an As- 
sociation. For my own part, I feel no capability 
whatever of directing an Association by discipline, by 
ideas of duty, moral suasion, and other similar means. 
I want organization ; I want a mechanism suited and 
adapted to human nature, so that human nature can 
follow its laws and affections, and go rightly, and be 
its own guide. I might do something in directing 
such an organization, but would be useless in any 
other way. As we all like to be active, I should like 
exceedingly to take part in and help construct a sci- 
entific organization. How can we raise the capital 
necessary to do something effectual ? I see but two 
ways. The first, is for Channing and me — and if he 
will not do it then for you and me — if you could 
possibly engage in it, to lecture patiently and perse- 
veringly in various parts of the country — having the 
translation of Fourier with us — and continue at this 
work until we have enlisted and interested men 
enough who will subscribe each a certain sum suffi- 
cient to form the fund we deem necessary. Patience 
and perseverance would do this. One hundred men 
who would subscribe $1,000 each would give us a 
fine capital. Something effectual, I think, might be 
done with such an amount ; less than that I fear 
would be patch- work. Second. If Channing or you 



BROOK FARM. — FOURIERISM. 183 

cannot engage in this enterprise, then I shall see 
what I can do alone. I shall make first the trial of 
the steel business ; things will now soon be deter- 
mined, probably in a few weeks ; there are chances 
that it may be a great thing. If that turns out noth- 
ing, then I shall take Fourier's work and do some- 
thing of what I propose you, or Channing, and I 
should do together. If nothing can be done in this 
way, then I shall wait patiently until I can get my 
father to embark with his fortune, or come into the 
control of it — I do not mean the capital, but the in- 
come, which will be large, ere long. Such are my 
prospects. If the capital can be had, where shall we 
organize, you will ask ? That is a thing to be care- 
fully considered, and which we cannot decide at pres- 
ent. Placed under the circumstances you are, all 
these speculations will appear foreign to the subject 
that interests you, and useless. 

You want capital, and immediately, for B. F. Now 
it seems to me a problem as perplexing to get $15,000 
for B. F., as it does to raise $100,000. Where can it 
be had ? The New Yorkers, who have money, are 
all interested and pledged to raise $10,000 for the N. 
A. P., to pay off its mortgage. You might as well 
undertake to raise dead men, as to obtain any consid- 
erable amount of capital from the people here. I 
have tried it so often that I know the difficulties. 
The fact is, we have a great work to accomplish — 
that of organizing an Association, and to do it we 
must have the means adequate to the task, and to get 
these means we must make the most persevering and 



184 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Herculean efforts. We must go at the thing in ear- 
nest, and labor until we have secured the means. I 
really see no other way or avenue to success ; if you 
do, I should be glad to hear your explanations of it. 
Fifteen thousand dollars might do a good deal at B. 
F., but would it do the thing effectually, that is, make 
a trial that would impress the public ? — and for 
anything short of that, none of us, I suppose, would 
labor. 

We are surrounded by great difficulties. I see no 
immediate chance of obtaining a capital sufficient for 
a good experiment, and until we have the capital to 
organize upon quite a complete scale, I should say 
that it would be a very great misfortune to dissolve 
B. F. No uncertain prospects should exercise any 
influence ; the means must be had in hand before we 
make any decisive movement towards a removal, or 
organizing in a more favorable location — even if you 
were perfectly willing to leave New England and the 
neighborhood of Boston. As I said, I spoke of it 
and should be urged to make at once the greatest 
efforts to obtain capital, only under the fear that cir- 
cumstances might force a crisis upon you. 

I have touched merely upon generalities to-day ; 
after further correspondence, I will write you more in 
detail. I will also come on and see you, if you deem 
it advisable. The steel experiment keeps me here at 
present. I think that next week I shall test it. I am 
getting a furnace built expressly. I am deeply re- 
joiced to hear that you are getting on so well with the 
translation, and expect also to hear you say, that you 



BROOK FARM.—FOURIERISM. 185 

wonder that we have done without it so long. It 
must be the means of converting the minds of those 
we most want, and which we have not yet been able 
to reach. Push it ahead as far as possible. I have 
perfect confidence that you can translate it better 
than any one else in the world, and it has been left 
for you to do. 

I will forward what can be collected the first mo- 
ment that it can be obtained. I have not received a 
second letter from Dwight ; if he has written, it has 
not yet come to hand. Come- on with him by all 
means, if you can, or without him, if he cannot come, 
or I cannot make my arrangements here for the en- 
terprise which will call him to New York. 

Please present my kindest and most respectful re- 
gards to Mrs. Ripley, and believe me as ever, 
Your true friend, 

A. Brisbane. 

" The Harbinger " lived nearly four years, a 
little more than two at Brook Farm, less than 
two in New York. The last number was issued 
on the 10th of February, 1849. It was a weekly 
sheet, mainly written by Brook Farm men, 
and to the last edited by Mr. Ripley, whose 
articles, to say nothing in disparagement of the 
rest, showed a warmth of heart, an earnestness 
of soul, a clearness of mind and a force of state- 
ment which proved the man's utter sincerity in 
the cause. 

The published writings of this period illus- 



186 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

trate the fine enthusiasm which animated the 
man, but they do not exhibit the affection that 
he felt for the least of those who shared in any 
degree his zeal for humanity. The letter which 
is now printed, written in answer to a friendly 
missive from a Brook Farm pupil, now a mar- 
ried woman in a western city, supplies this de- 
ficiency. It was found among the few papers 
that he preserved of that happy time : — 

March 9, 1880. 

My dear , — I can never think of you under 

any other name than that which so deeply interested 
me in your childhood, in spite of what you tell me of 
your " dear, kind husband," and your four blooming 
sons and daughters. It is not too much to say that 
your charming letter gave me a thrill of pleasure, 
recalling so vividly the by-gone days, when a child 
in mind and appearance but a woman in thought and 
feeling, your original and racy character awakened 
in me an interest, " a real affection," as you justly 
called it, which has never for one moment been 
dimmed from that time to the present. I rejoice 
more than I can tell you in the kindly and beautiful 
remembrances which I am constantly receiving from 
my old pupils and associates of the Brook Farm life, 
which was then only a name for an enthusiastic en- 
deavor for a purer and better social state, but which 
has since become celebrated in romance and history. 
Among my own most precious recollections are those 
of your beloved and honored family, of whom Flor- 



BROOK FARM.—FOURIERISM. 187 

ence is the only one with whom I have kept a per- 
sonal intercourse, and which has always been in the 
highest degree pleasant and satisfactory. You do 
not know that soon after your visit to Mrs. Manning, 
now more than twenty years ago, my wife was at- 
tacked with a fatal disease, and died in the early part 
of 1861. About five years after I was married to a 
German lady, several years younger than myself, of 
admirable character and great personal attractions, 
who has given a charm to my life for the past fourteen 
years. I have nearly reached the limit of four-score 
years, but I find that age thus far makes little differ- 
ence in my attachment to early friends, in my enjoy- 
ment of life, or in my intellectual activity. I beg 
you to present my cordial greetings to your husband, 
who will possess the esteem which I cherish for 
yourself, and my sincere love ( for your sake ) to the 
dear children, who have honored me with their kind 
request. I regret that I have no photograph, as I 
have been unwilling to sit for one for many years as 
they are all such fearful caricatures, and at present 
especially I could only offer the "ashes of roses," 
which would be an unworthy gift to one who remem- 
bers the flower in the fullness of its maturity. 

It is unnecessary to speculate on the causes 
of the failure at Brook Farm. There was 
every reason why it should fail ; there was no 
earthly, however much heavenly, reason there 
may have been, why it should succeed. Like 
similar enterprises elsewhere it was untimely, 



188 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

and whatever is untimely is already doomed to 
perish. The principle is established that human 
progress is gradual, by slow stages, evil by de- 
grees yielding to good, the spiritual succeeding 
the natural by almost imperceptible processes 
of amelioration ; so that all attempts miscarry 
which aim at results, but disregard the steps 
by which results are reached. Mankind are 
repelled, as by an instinct, from undertakings 
that are not founded on the visible sequence of 
cause and effect. Capital avoids them. Prac- 
tical ability shuns them. Neither ambition nor 
thrift will take part in them. The world, no 
doubt, is selfish ; but so long as it is providen- 
tially so, so long as selfishness is one of the 
stubborn conditions of advance in righteous- 
ness, to complain of it is idle, however strenu- 
ously one may resist it. 

To those who think that Brook Farm failed 
through lack of organization, it may be replied 
that it failed quite as probably through having 
too much. The introduction of Fourierism, 
from which so much was expected, proved in 
the end unfortunate. It frightened away ideal- 
ists whose presence had given to the spot its 
chief attraction, and injured the pastoral bloom 
which beautified it. The reputation of Brook 
Farm for brilliancy, wit, harmless eccentricity, 
was seriously compromised. The joyous spirit 



BROOK FARM. — FO URIERISM. 189 

of youth was sobered. The outside community 
henceforth regarded the enterprise as a me- 
chanical attempt to reform society rather than 
as a poetic attempt to regenerate it. Fourier- 
ism brought in a new set of theorists, quite as 
unpractical, and much less sunny. 

The fire, which destroyed the only " phalan- 
stery," on the evening of March 3, 1846, was 
a severe blow, — more severe than the people 
admitted. The edifice was commenced in the 
summer of 1844, and was in progress until 
November, 1845, when work was suspended for 
the winter. It was resumed on the very day 
of the fire, which was caused by a defect in the 
construction of a chimney. The structure was 
of wood, one hundred and seventy-five feet long, 
three stories high, with spacious attics, divided 
into pleasant and convenient rooms for single 
persons. The second and third stories were 
broken up into fourteen " apartments," inde- 
pendent of each other, each comprising a parlor 
and three sleeping rooms, connected by piazzas 
which ran the whole length of the building on 
both stories. The basement contained a large 
kitchen, a dining-hall capable of seating from 
three to four hundred persons, two public sa- 
loons, together with a spacious hall and lecture- 
room. Although by no means a complete model 
for a, phalanstery, it was well adapted to imme- 



190 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

diate purposes, delightfully situated, and pleas- 
ing to the eye. About $7,000 in all, including 
the labor of the associates, had beeh expended 
on the building ; it was estimated that $3,000 
more would render it fit for its uses. There 
was no insurance on it. The loss, which was 
total, fell upon the holders of partnership stock 
and the members of the Association. Notwith- 
standing the gallant spirit in which the calam- 
ity was met, the loss was serious. There was 
a disposition on the part of the more sanguine 
to make light of the disaster ; the earnest souls 
fell back on their heroism and vowed to perse- 
vere in spite of all discouragements. The noble 
president thanked the firemen, who had come 
from neighboring towns, cheered the heart of 
the desponding, and even drew consolation from 
the thought that the building had not become 
endeared to them by association ; — but it was 
in vain. The blow was staggering. Councils 
of deliberation were held. Discussion was long 
and heated. Proposals to dissolve were voted 
down by men who in their hearts felt that 
dissolution was inevitable. The boldest hoped 
against hope. It may be true that the confla- 
gration was not the immediate cause of the en- 
suing disorganization ; but that it was a proxi- 
mate cause of it can hardly be doubted. Cer- 
tain it is that from that moment the thoughts 



BROOK FARM. — FOURIERISM. 191 

of many turned away from Brook Farm. It 
was harder than ever to obtain capital. There 
was no -demand for stock. It is more than likely 
that Mr. Greeley's interest was diverted to- 
wards projects nearer New York, which looked 
more promising, which at any rate were more 
convenient, and which seemed to have before 
them a future. On Brook Farm itself few at- 
tacks, either public or private, were made. Its 
purpose was so sincere, its conduct so irre- 
proachable, its devotion to ends purely humane 
so evident, that malice could find no grounds 
for assailing it. The evil eyes that were turned 
on it at last were perhaps sharpened by polit- 
ical animosity towards Mr. Greeley, whose un- 
popularity it was compelled to share. The lash 
of partisan spite, it was found, could be made 
to reach him if aimed over the shoulders of a 
scheme which lent itself so readily to ridicule. 

It is not worth while to do more than men- 
tion certain disadvantages of Brook Farm which 
might in any case have impeded its success, but 
which, under the circumstances, cannot be held 
in any considerable measure accountable for its 
failure. The soil was not, on the whole, favor- 
able to profitable tillage; it needed manuring, 
which was costly, because hard to get. There 
was no water-power available. Railroad com- 
munication with the city was infrequent ; so 



192 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

that the heavy work of transportation had to be 
done by wagon. Local industries in the neigh- 
borhood were inadequate to stimulate a demand 
for various labor. Such obstacles might have 
been overcome by capital or by trained skill, 
but both of these would have been needed, and 
neither of them was supplied. The consequence 
was a result that was rather aesthetic than mer- 
cenary, a harvest that could be " gathered in a 
song." The idealists lingered last, loath to 
leave a spot endeared by so many associations, 
hallowed by so many hopes. One of the last 
to go, one of the saddest of heart, one of the 
most self-sacrificing through it all, was John S. 
Dwight. It may truly said that Brook Farm 
died in music. 

To Mr. Ripley the disappointment must have 
been bitter. How bitter is evident from the 
fact that he never referred to Brook Farm ex- 
cept in intimate conversation with his old com- 
rades, or with one to whom he could unbosom 
his soul. At times he spoke of it in terms of 
banter such as one may use to conceal deep feel- 
ing ; at other times, though this was rare, he 
dwelt with solemnity on the aims which sent 
him thither and kept him there doing the work 
he did for so many years. His faith in the 
principles involved remained with him through 
his life. About a year before his death he ex- 



BROOK FARM. — FOURIERISM. 193 

pressed an earnest conviction of the truth of 
the primary ideas laid down by Fourier, and a 
belief that some of his predictions were coming 
true. Later still he declared his persuasion 
that the highest visions he had ever entertained 
must be fulfilled in due time. His weak ex- 
periment had come to nothing, but the truth 
it sought to serve survived. He cast no blame 
upon the constitution of the world, none upon 
his fellow-men. His own mistake he might be 
sorry for, but of the undertaking he could not 
feel ashamed. Of one thing he could be cer- 
tain : of his own singleness of purpose, of his 
own integrity of will. His studies in the phi- 
losophy of history had been profound ; he had 
read much and thought much, though he had 
written little. As a man of letters his activity 
had been hardly perceptible, but as a man of 
mind it was of permanent value, and his subse- 
quent service as a man of letters was greatly 
indebted to the experience acquired at Brook 
Farm. 

The crushing difficulties were, as will have 
been comprehended long ere this, financial; 
these pressed more and more heavily, month 
by month, and at length could not be breasted. 
The catastrophe came from this quarter, and in 
such manner as the accompanying documents 
explain. 

13 



194 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Brook Farm, March 4, 1847. 

Minutes of a meeting held this day pursuant to a 
call in writing, through the post-office to each of the 
stockholders and creditors of the Brook Farm Pha- 
lanx. The following persons being present, namely, 
G. Ripley, J. M. Palisse, Jno. Hoxie, Francis G. 
Shaw, Geo. R. Russell, S. Butterfield, N. Colton, P. 
N. Kleinstrup. G. Ripley in the chair. J. M. Palisse 
was chosen Secretary. 

After a verbal statement from G. Ripley respecting 
the present condition of the Phalanx, it was voted 
unanimously, that Geo. Ripley be authorized to let 
the Farm for one year from March 1st, for $350 ; 
and the Keith lot for $100 or more, with such condi- 
tions and reservations as he may deem best for the 
interest of the stockholders. 

Adjourned. 

J. M. Palisse, Secretary. 

Brook Farm, August 18, 1847. 

Minutes of a meeting of the stockholders and 
creditors of the Brook Farm Phalanx, held pursuant 
to due notice given to all parties by George Ripley. 
Present: Geo. Ripley, Theodore Parker, Samuel 
Teal, P. N. Kleinstrup, A. Kay, J. M. Palisse, 
Amelia Russell, Mary Ann Ripley. 

J. M. Palisse was appointed Secretary of the 
meeting. Theodore Parker read a letter from G. 
R. Russell, authorizing the former to represent him 
and vote at this meeting. It was then voted unani- 
mously : that the President of the Phalanx be, and 



BROOK FARM. — F0URIER1SM. 195 

is hereby authorized, to transfer to a Board of Three 
Trustees the whole property of the Corporation for 
the purpose and with power of disposing of it to the 
best advantage of all concerned. 

Voted unanimously, that Messrs. T. Parker, G. R. 
Russell, and Samuel P. Teal compose that Board of 
Trustees. 

Voted unanimously, that said Board of Trustees has 
power to add Mr. Francis Jackson or some suitable 
person to its number, or employ him as its agent in 
the management of the business confided to its care. 

Adjourned. 

J. M. Palisse, Secretary. 

The devoted wife, who had toiled unflinch- 
ingly by her husband's side, lending the wings 
of her ardent feeling to the steady momentum 
of his resolute will, was betraying signs of phys- 
ical and mental exhaustion. In 1846, the treas- 
ured books were sold at auction, carrying with 
them a purpose never again to collect a library, 
since never again could books mean to him 
what those had meant. On the transference of 
" The Harbinger " to New York in 1847, the 
home was removed from West Roxbury to the 
village of Flatbush, on Long Island. There Mrs. 
Ripley earned money by teaching, while he pur- 
sued his editorial labors in a bare, upper room 
of the old Tribune building. Discomfort in ev- 
ery form was his portion. His chief recreation 



196 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

was a frequent visit to Coney Island, then less 
gay and less respectable than it is now, and a 
plunge in the lonely surf. His daily companion 
was toil. His consolation was the fidelity of a 
few friends and the loyal affection of his wife. 
His support was the never-failing determina- 
tion to do his duty and the uplifting strength 
of an aspiration which was never clouded for 
more than a moment. A friend who knew him 
well during this time speaks with feeling of the 
cheerful courage with which he bore his for- 
tune, and the sweetness with which he met the 
onset of calamity. Without jar or fret, jocund 
in circumstances that would have broken ordi- 
nary men, he moved through the laborious 
weeks, in his home a daily sunshine, in his 
office a perpetual serenity which concealed a 
secret sadness so effectually that only the most 
intimate could suspect its existence. In later 
life he told with humor to the writer of these 
lines how, after an attack of illness which took 
him away from his office for some weeks, he 
returned to find the room deserted. " The Har- 
binger " had ended a promising but precarious 
existence, and he was without place or employ- 
ment in the world. 

The following verses, which belong to this 
period, — the only lines, so far as is known, 
that he ever wrote, — tell of his frame of mind. 



BROOK FARM.-FOURIERISM. 197 

They are copied from " The Christian Exam- 
ine/" for May, 1847: — 

"THE ANGELS OF THE PAST." 

My buried days ! — in bitter tears 

I sit beside your tomb, 
And ghostly forms of vanished years 

Flit through my spirit's gloom. 

In throngs around my soul they press, 

They fill my dreamy sight 
With visions of past loveliness 

And shapes of lost delight. 

Like angels of the Lord they move 

Each on his mystic way, — 
These blessed messengers of love, 

These heralds of the day. 

And as they pass, the conscious air 

Is stirred to music round, 
And a murmur of harmonious prayer 

Is breathed along the ground. 

And sorrow dies from out my heart 

In exhalations sweet, 
And the bands of life, which she did part, 

In blessed union meet. 

The past and future o'er my head 
Their sacred grasp entwine, 



198 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

And the eyes of all the holy dead 
Around, before me, shine. 

And I rise to life and duty, 
From nights of fear and death, 

With a deeper sense of beauty 
And fuller strength of faith. 



CHAPTER V. 

LABOR. 

On the breaking up of Brook Farm, and the 
decease of " The Harbinger," Mr. Ripley was 
thrown altogether on his literary resources. In 
every other direction his outlook was dark. He 
had made two ventures, neither of which had 
met his anticipations. He had reached the pe- 
riod of life when the thoughts turn backward. 
He was poorer than poor, for he was in debt. 
His noble wife had lost her faith in the ideas 
that had sustained them both in much hardship, 
and from the point of another creed, the Ro- 
man Catholic, regarded the associative experi- 
ment as unfortunate. What remained to him 
was himself, his mind, his training, his power 
with the pen, his determination to achieve in 
other fields what he had failed as yet to accom- 
plish. 

His first energies were directed to the task 
of working himself clear of the pecuniary re- 
sponsibility for Brook Farm. How great this 
was cannot now be accurately determined. For 
a man of ample means it would have been tri- 



200 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

fling, but for him it was heavy. There is evi- 
dence that for more than ten years this bur- 
den was upon him. The last receipt was for 
groceries, paid for in part by money, in part by 
a copy of the " Cyclopaedia," in 1862, Decem- 
ber 22. The number of claimants was thirty- 
three. Of these, seven withdrew. After the 
claims had been sifted and all compromises 
made, the sums due amounted to a little more 
than one thousand dollars. 

Mr. Ripley's connection with " The Tribune " 
began immediately on the cessation of "The 
Harbinger," but was not at first lucrative, for 
the paper was still young, having been estab- 
lished in 1841, and a literary department was 
not as yet organized. Subsequently the man 
made the place, but for several years the jour- 
nal, afterwards so distinguished as a tribunal of 
letters, took a modest position. There was at 
this time no such thing as systematic criticism 
of literary work in a daily paper. The man 
of letters wrote books. Of literary magazines 
there were not many. " Harper's New Monthly 
Magazine " was ushered into being in 1850 ; the 
first number of " Putnam's Monthly " was is- 
sued in January, 1853. The leading writers 
were either men of means, or had earned a com- 
petency by the sale of more ambitious works, — 
romances, histories, poems, sketches of travel, 



LABOR. 201 

— or were contented to live in retirement with- 
out money. Literature, the current literature of 
the day, the literature which fed the multitude, 
offered but a precarious subsistence, and no 
hope of fame. In fact, the multitude had no 
literature deserving the name. There was little 
general knowledge of books, opinions, or char- 
acters. Intelligence was confined to concerns 
of a material order ; the world of thought was 
not yet open to the many. To earn a liveli- 
hood by his pen; and not merely to earn a 
livelihood, but to pay debts ; and not merely to 
do this, but to create a fame, to erect a stand- 
ard, and establish a permanent demand for the 
best thought and the best expression, to make 
knowledge a public necessity, as it had been a 
private luxury, was the task which George Rip- 
ley accomplished. Not that he contemplated 
such an achievement when he began ; the drift 
of the time was setting in a literary direction, 
and gave him opportunities that he could not 
have anticipated ; still he did more than any 
man to stimulate that tendency, and to him is 
largely due the substitution of an exact, critical 
method, in place of the sentimental mood which 
was earlier in vogue. He wrote from observa- 
tion, reading, knowledge, not from feeling or 
fancy. From the first he did this. His train- 
ing at school and college ; his years of experi- 



202 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ence in an exacting profession ; his exercise in 
reviews and controversies ; his familiarity with 
the best productions of American, English, Ger- 
man, and French genius ; the severe mental and 
moral discipline of Brook Farm, all conspired 
with a remarkable firmness and moderation of 
temperament, to repress any impulse towards 
affectation or undue exhilaration of judgment, 
while his natural buoyancy of spirits, his in- 
born kindness of heart, his knowledge of intel- 
lectual difficulties, and his sympathy with even 
modest aspirations, saved him from moroseness, 
and rendered it impossible for him to ply with 
severity the scourge of criticism. 

His earliest experience in journalism was of 
the hardest. In the spring of 1849 he moved 
to New York from Flatbush. At this time he 
spent a few hours daily in the office of " The 
Tribune " as " literary assistant," — a " caterer 
of intelligence in all languages but the vernac- 
ular." He had no leisure for such work as he 
wished to do — to review Morell's " Philoso- 
phy of Religion," for example ; or Hickock's 
" Psychology " for his friend Parkers " Massa- 
chusetts Quarterly ; " but '* everything is so 
overlaid by filigree, spangles, bits of mica, and 
so forth in the form of short book notices, cor- 
respondence, and other machinery, by which 
brain is turned into bread," that he makes ex- 



LABOR. 203 

cuses for not obliging his dearest friend. Thus 
he writes on the 9th of July, 1849 : — 

My dear Theodore, — My article on Dr. Bush- 
nell has not got written, and of course not sent. 
Since I heard from you last I have made a new ar- 
rangement with " The Tribune," and now have a reg- 
ular " bureau " in that office as assistant editor. This 
so binds me to the flying wings of the daily press, 
that I can make no engagements of a more responsi- 
ble character, and of course must forego the satisfac- 
tion of being one of your regular contributors. I 
still hope, however, that I may wake up some fine 
day and write you an article on some subject purely 
literary, as I am more and more convinced that theol- 
ogy is beyond my depth. I will make no more prom- 
ises, and cause no more disappointment. 

My present duties are quite to my taste, and give 
me a moderate livelihood. Ever yours, faithfully, 

George Ripley. 

What his idea was of a moderate livelihood 
may be surmised from the following statement, 
copied word for word from the pay-roll of the 
paper by one of the officials : — 

On the week ending May 5, 1849, Mr. Ripley was 
paid $5.00 for services on the paper. This is the 
first time that he appears. 

The following week, ending May 12, his name does 
not appear. 

On May 19, the week following, he was paid 
$5.00. 



204 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

On May 26, the week following, his name does not 
appear. 

On June 2 he was paid $5.00. 

His name does not appear again until June 23, a 
gap of two weeks, when he was paid $5.00. 

On June 30, 1849, he was paid $8.00. 

His name does not appear again until July 14, 
1849, when he was paid $10.00, and from that date 
until September 1, 1849, he was paid weekly $10.00. 

On September 1, 1849, he was paid $15.00. 
Thereafter, until April 6, 1850, he received $10.00 
per week. 

On April 6, 1850, and until September 21, 1851, 
he received $15.00 per week. 

On September 21, 1851, his salary was placed on 
the pay-roll at $25.00, and remained thus until Jan- 
uary 16, 1864, with the exception of the week ending 
October 4, 1851, when he was paid only $15.00. 

On January 16, 1864, he was paid $30.00, and his 
salary continued $30.00 per week until January, 
1866, when it was raised to $50.00, and it remained 
at that sum until January 11, 1871, when it was 
raised to the sum of $75.00, and from that time until 
his death he was paid $75.00 per week for his ser- 
vices. 

During his absence in Europe, in 1869, his salary 
ceased, and he was paid for the letters which he 
wrote. The sum so paid him was about $30.00 per 
week. This was done by his own solicitation. He 
did not wish to receive his regular salary when not 
at work at the office ; but desired to write when he 



LABOR. 205 

had matter to write about. When he had no subject, 
or when he did not feel like working, he would not 
accept of pay. 

In connection with the increase of Mr. Ripley's 
salary in 1871, the following extract from the " Min- 
utes Book " is of interest : — 

" Mr. Greeley proposed the following : — 

" Resolved, That the salary of Mr. George Ripley 
be increased from $50.00 to $75.00 per week. 

"In explanation, he [Mr. Greeley] said that his 
general opposition to raising the salaries of stock- 
holders was well-known. He thought his own salary 
had been raised unwisely, and had so said at the time. 
Raising one salary always incites a claim that half a 
dozen others should be raised to equalize payment 
for equal service. He had always opposed, and al- 
ways would oppose, demands for additional pay based 
on the needs of the claimant. He did not know 
whether Dr. Ripley had more or less children than 
John Rodgers, and did not care. He moved this in- 
crease on two distinct and only grounds : I. Dr. Rip- 
ley has long served * The Tribune ' industriously 
and faithfully, and has won a high reputation for its 
Literary Department. II. He [Mr. Greeley] de- 
sired more work of Dr. Ripley than he had hitherto 
done, and would undertake, if the resolution pre- 
vailed, to get the value of the increase out of the 
Doctor in good honest service." 

The resolution was unanimously adopted. 

On December 28, 1849, a resolution was passed by 
the stockholders, in meeting assembled, permitting 



206 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Messrs. George Ripley, Samuel Sinclair, and James 
Cuthill " to purchase stock in the Tribune Newspaper 
Association," and thereafter they met with the stock- 
holders. 

That Mr. Ripley's contributions to the polit- 
ical and miscellaneous columns were no larger, 
must be explained by the activity of his pen in 
other directions. A little account book, which 
has been preserved, contains the names of va- 
rious periodicals for which he wrote, and even 
gives the titles of his contributions. They cover 
the whole field of human interests from social 
reform to ephemeral amusements ; from grave 
discussions of politics and philosophy to the gos- 
sip of the day ; the newly-arrived singer ; the 
latest sensation in the dramatic world. He 
tried his hand at all styles, having an eye to the 
exigency of the hour. Art, music, opera, con- 
certs, the latest incident in the world of affairs, 
Kossuth, Jenny Lind, Father Mathew, Miss 
Bremer, Fanny Davenport, the lecturers, Cha- 
pin, Giles, Emerson, the reading of Mrs. Kem- 
ble, the Astor Place riot, the Parkman murder, 
foot-races, Charlotte Cushman, reform and eccle- 
siastical conventions, the amount of mail matter 
between Europe and America, spiritual sittings, 
A. J. Davis and his first big book, the beginning 
of new literary enterprises, Wordsworth, AU- 
ston, the Astor Library, Agassiz, Henry James, 



LABOR. 207 

Poe, Brownson, Longfellow, Sumner, Garrison, 
Phillips, Margaret Fuller, Samuel Osgood, Bee- 
cher, Macaulay, Bancroft, N. P. Willis, Moses 
Stuart, Holmes, Thackeray, Horatio Greenough, 
Comte, Schelling, Nehemiah Adams, James 
Walker, Daniel Webster, Andrews Norton, 
Walker's trial for murder, the cholera, the last 
news from California, the demise of u The True 
Sun," capital punishment, Friends' Yearly 
Meeting, the execution of Washington Goode. 
" Anything but apathy " is his motto. It must 
be confessed that a finely educated taste like 
his does not always show to advantage in such 
promiscuous company. His attempts at suc- 
cess as a penny-a-liner were not examples of 
brilliant achievement : the lion does not appear 
well at a menagerie. But the training was ex- 
cellent, and familiarity with all sorts of litera- 
ture was valuable. In no other way could he 
have acquired the discipline needed in his pro- 
fession. 

The breadth of his experience is indicated by 
the variety of the journals to which he contrib- 
uted : " The Chronotype," " The Globe," Ar- 
thur's "Home Gazette," "The Literary Messen- 
ger," " The Washingtonian," " The Picayune," 
" The Pittsburgh Commercial," " The Colum- 
bian," " The Charleston Literary Gazette," 
"The Manchester Examiner" (English); later 



208 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

came "The Independent," " Hearth and Home," 
and other periodicals not recorded. For some 
of these he wrote regularly, for others occasion- 
ally ; always accommodating his material to the 
journal it was prepared for, descanting on books, 
politics, travels, the gossip of the day, social 
movements, as his readers may have desired. 
In several instances the papers were scores in 
number, and on every conceivable subject, from 
problems of life to the rumors of the streets. 
It is bewildering even to note the themes ; and 
when it is remembered that all this work was 
conscientiously done, was done under serious 
difficulties, much of it in hours of fatigue, anxi- 
ety, and sorrow, the achievement is astonishing. 

In the early period of this labor, the spiritual 
earnestness of the man often broke out, as for 
example in such language as this : — 

" The work of ages goes on ; man advances 
nearer to the freedom which is his birthright ; 
the temporary evils, that are incidental to all 
transitions from an old order of things to a bet- 
ter, pass away, and are forgotten ; the self-sus- 
taining, self-recovering power of liberty, insures 
the health of the social body ; and in spite of 
the Jeremiads of such croaking prophets as M. 
^Guizot, the serene spirit of humanity unfolds 
new strength and beauty in the elastic atmos- 
phere of liberty, until its presence is acknowl- 
edged universally as benign." 



LABOR. 209 

11 Gerrit Smith is one of the increasing num- 
ber, who, with Moses, Jefferson, and Fourier, 
believe that the monopoly of land is at war with 
the principles of divine justice; that the usu- 
fruct of the earth belongs to the living genera- 
tions of the race, but its absolute proprietorship 
to no one but the Creator. This principle is 
capable of demonstration." 

" The Associationists have held several meet- 
ings the past week, which have been character- 
ized by an excellent spirit, great union of feel- 
ing, and unquenchable devotion to their cause. 
. . . There is good reason why. They know 
that the claims they make of social organization 
are demanded by eternal justice, and will one 
day be acknowledged by human intelligence." 

The literary spirit, temperate, thoughtful, 
considerate, asserted itself quickly, nor was it 
long in claiming as its own the whole field of 
expression. Thus, in February, 1850, he chron- 
icles the beginnings of the Astor Library. His 
reviews of books and his notices of men con- 
tain sketches of character such as none but a 
master could have produced. Portrait sketches 
of this time might be multiplied indefinitely, 
for the rich-minded and warm-hearted writer 
poured out his impressions with fullness and 
freedom whenever he reviewed characters or 
books. His multitudinous productions abound 

14 



210 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

in similar material. Tempting descriptions of 
Bancroft, Bushnell, Carlyle, Motley, Miihleh- 
berg, Mill, Ruskin, Strauss, Channing, Par- 
ker, Biichner, Coleridge, Swinburne, Greeley, 
Sainte-Beuve, George Eliot, G. H. Lewes, hang 
on the walls of his work-room, done with a few 
broad touches by his careful hand. They are 
of various dates, but the same conscientiousness 
of treatment marks them all. Though not al- 
ways original, they are always faithfully studied 
and honestly executed, without mannerism or 
pretense, and always with knowledge derived 
from independent study. Several of them im- 
plied a large culture in the best schools of lit- 
erary art ; a few had many years of experienced 
thought behind them. To a friend who ex- 
pressed surprise at the facility with which he 
threw off his article on Goethe, he replied : "It 
is not wonderful, seeing that I have been fifty 
years about it." He was an illustration of his 
own literary principles. In a review of Trench's 
" Plutarch " he said : " He who does not write 
as well as he can on every occasion will soon 
form the habit of not writing well at all." The 
mental hospitality finds explanation in another 
saying of his : " Exclusive devotion to any ob- 
ject, while it narrows the mental range and con- 
tracts, if it does not paralyze, the sympathies, 
usually diminishes the causes of temptation." 



LABOR. 211 

It must be remembered that all the earlier 
work was done under severe pressure of care. 
The writer had none of the luxuries that the 
man of letters loves. He was poor ; he could 
afford but one room in a boarding-house ; his 
labor was all directed towards the earning of 
daily bread. He could not pursue his favorite 
studies, but must compel his mind to take an 
interest in subjects for which he had no taste. 
He toiled for bare subsistence; his recreation 
took the form of toil. He was sustained by his 
indomitable will, his buoyancy of animal spir- 
its, and the devotion of his wife, who preserved 
for him, personally, notwithstanding her change 
of faith, a constant affection. She always saw 
him go away in the morning with regret, and 
welcomed his return with joy. She knew that 
he was toiling for her sake, and was resolved 
that she would give him such recompense as 
might be in her power. That he had hours of 
anxiety and despondency may be easily be- 
lieved. Without such he would not have been 
human. But his despondency never got the 
better of his courage. His moods of depression 
were largely caused by fatigue, which an excel- 
lent constitution enabled him soon to throw off. 
He possessed an extraordinary capacity for 
work, and a conscientiousness which was proof 
against the temptations of indolence and the 



212 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

languors of exhaustion. Work of itself did not 
fatigue him, partly for the reason, perhaps, that 
being varied and literary, the pressure was not 
severely felt on the nerves of sensibility. It 
was easy to throw from the mind what made 
no organic part of the mind. Then the even 
monotony of his labor reduced to a level all but 
the few very remarkable works which break up 
at long intervals the plains of the intellectual 
world. 

In 1852, in connection with Bayard Taylor, 
he compiled a "Handbook of Literature and 
the Fine Arts," a volume of 650 pages, 12mo, 
the second in a series of six, projected and pub- 
lished by G. P. Putnam, as a comprehensive 
cyclopaedia for family use. The book, though 
mainly a compilation, involved much reading 
and labor. An elaborate article on "Litera- 
ture," probably from the senior editor's pen, 
was the most distinguishing feature in it. 

When " Putnam's Magazine " was started, 
in 1853, Mr. Ripley was one of its early con- 
tributors. The article on George Bancroft 
(March, 1853) lays emphasis on the impor- 
tance of the transcendental school of philoso- 
phy, of which Mr. Bancroft was an ardent ad- 
herent and an eloquent expositor, pays a warm 
tribute to " plebeian " institutions, and extols 
Kant. The article on Horace Greeley (July, 



LABOR. 213 

1855) regards Mr. Greeley's success as an il- 
lustration of American institutions; calls him 
a genuine representative of the New England 
spirit ; does not fully approve either his polit- 
ical principles or his plans of social reform ; 
gives a fine analysis of his character ; casts 
a side glance at Mrs. Hemans, as contrasted 
with Byron and Shelley, and dwells on the 
limitations and infirmities of self-made men. 
The paper is brilliant, and not in the least con- 
troversial. An article on American literature 
(February, 1856) follows Duycinck in the 
main ; but contains a warm eulogium on Roger 
Williams, as the apostle of soul-freedom. The 
paper on Heine (November, 1856) severely 
condemns Heine's character ; is rather analyt- 
ical and philosophical in tone ; but confines it- 
self pretty closely to the data given in Meiss- 
ner's " Erinnerungen." In two articles on 
George Sand (February and June, 1857) the 
writer follows the course of her "Autobiogra- 
phy " without attempting an essay on her gen- 
ius. There is no bitterness in his comment; 
no rebuke of her " immoralities," only a mild 
censure of her eccentricities, and a plea for 
charity in respect to her infringements of " the 
wholesome regulations of society." The biog- 
raphy of Wm. H. Seward, prefixed to the col- 
lective edition of Mr. Seward's works (1853), 



214 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

was from George Ripley's pen. This, we sus- 
pect, was done with enthusiasm, for the writer 
was a philosophical democrat, a believer in the 
people, at heart in sympathy with all move- 
ments aiming at the elevation of the masses. 
In a review of Greeley's " Conflict " (" Atlan- 
tic Monthly " for July, 1864), he spoke of the 
" Compromises of 1850 " as " a monstrous cor- 
ruption in legislation, which not even the great 
name of Henry Clay could shield from subse- 
quent opprobrium." The following letter from 
Charles Sumner proves that long before this was 
written George Ripley's name called up associa- 
tions of reform with literary cultivation : — 

Boston, July 5, 1849. . 
My dear Sir, — I do not see " The Tribune " ha- 
bitually, and was not aware till yesterday that there 
had been any notice or discussion of anything of mine 
in its columns. It is only this evening that I have 
seen your most flattering notice. I do not know that 
I have ever read any article, mentioning my name, 
with more sincere satisfaction than I have just read 
that written by you. Knowing your skill as a critic 
and your knowledge of the subject [" The Law of 
Progress "], I have especial pleasure in your com- 
mendation, while I cannot but attribute it in some 
measure to a friendly bias, or to the free-masonry 
which unites all who are struggling, through the evil 
report of men, for the better time. 



LABOR. 215 

I have tried to procure a copy of " The Tribune " 
containing your notice, but in vain. It was Friday, 
June 8. I have thought it not impossible that it 
might be convenient for you to send me a copy of the 
" Weekly " containing the whole controversy, but I 
am particularly desirous of preserving your article. 

I send you to-day a recent address on " Peace," in 
which I believe I have shown that great cause to be 
as practicable as it is beneficent. I have endeavored 
to disembarrass the question of some of the topics 
which are sometimes unnecessarily associated with it. 

Pardon my free epistle, into which I have been 
tempted by the exceeding kindness which you have 
shown to me. Ever faithfully yours, 

Charles Sumner. 

Mr. Ripley's connection with " Harper's New 
Monthly Magazine " began with its beginning 
in 1850, and continued intimate and confiden- 
tial till his death. He was at first a writer of 
literary notices for it, but soon took more prom- 
inent positions, became a regular contributor, 
and finally one of its trusted " readers" of 
works offered to the house for publication or 
reissue to the American market. The number 
of the " Opinions " is very great, manuscripts 
being sent him every week, many of them nov- 
els, but many of them works on theological or 
philosophical themes, volumes of travel, histo- 
ries, pictures of foreign lands, sketches of char- 



216 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

acter, essays, narratives of adventure, solid ex- 
amples of criticism, as well as " airy nothings " 
of fancy. To all he gave conscientious exam- 
ination, not allowing himself to indulge a prej- 
udice in favor of an author or against him, and 
keeping in view the interests of literature along 
with the expediences of trade. His judgment 
was sober, his perception keen, his knowledge 
adequate. On his recommendation, many a 
good book was sent forth to merited success, 
and at his suggestion many a poor one was ar- 
rested on its way to the printer. Of necessity, 
the judgments were summary and the opinions 
short; but the judgments were always well 
weighed, and the opinions carefully expressed. 
A singular combination of literary sagacity and 
worldly wisdom characterized them nearly all. 
An author's fame seldom conceals any demer- 
its of his work, nor does an author's obscurity 
prevent him from bestowing on his production 
the attention it deserves. In praising or blam- 
ing, he is not contented with wholesale reflec- 
tions, but limits his approval or his disap- 
proval to the qualities he wishes to commend or 
to discourage, never failing to distinguish the 
special excellence or deficiency of the book un- 
der consideration. Such definiteness is a sign 
of power; when united with the serenity of 
knowledge, it is a sign of remarkable power of 



LABOR. 217 

intellect. The writer must confess that a pe- 
rusal of these " opinions " has impressed upon 
him the extraordinary mental force of Mr. Rip- 
ley, even more than the elaborate reviews which 
were intended for the public eye, as faithful 
work done in secret is always more impressive 
than the most brilliant performance designed to 
meet the gaze of men. These criticisms, which 
might easily be expanded into essays, were care- 
lessly thrown to the publisher for his guidance 
as regarded the availability of commodities for 
the market, but in truth they are valuable as 
contributions to literary history. Their close 
association with the names of authors and the 
titles of books forbids their publication ; ex- 
cept for that, a volume of them would be in- 
structive and medicinal; nutritious to minds in 
health, curative to minds diseased. The Eng- 
lish of them is, of itself, a study, so quiet yet 
so fair. Mr. Ripley made a conscience of his 
use of English. He said once, in print, " It is 
the duty of every educated man to set his face 
against the innovations which disfigure the lan- 
guage ; to exercise the functions of a committee 
of vigilance where no verbal tribunal forms a 
court of final appeal ; and thus to aid in the 
creation of a body of common law which shall 
have the force of a statute." So conscientious 
was he about this, that the most abrupt ver- 



218 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

diets, often but two or three lines in length, are 
expressed in English, not formal or studied, but 
idiomatic; dashing, yet correct. The "opin- 
ions " in question prove the possibility of giv- 
ing utterance to very strong emotions without 
departing from the vernacular. " Idiot " and 
" lunatic " are to be found in the most conser- 
vative dictionaries. They who object to Mr. 
Ripley's gentleness would, perhaps, be of an- 
other mind if they could see his written judg- 
ment on manuscripts sent to him for inspection. 
The u New American Cyclopaedia" was be- 
gun in 1857. The project was conceived by 
Rev. Dr. Hawks. Mr. Ripley's connection with 
the work was coincident with its earliest execu- 
tion, and the character of the work itself owed 
much to the patient labor and the unremitting 
care which he bestowed on it. The publishers, 
of course, granted every facility, — provided the 
space for a large corps of workers ; supplied the 
books of reference ; paid contributors, sub-edi- 
tors, purveyors of literary material ; did all, in 
fact, that publishers could do, in affording the 
" ways and means," — but the success of the 
undertaking depended much on the manner in 
which the task was performed, and that rested 
with the editors, George Ripley and C. A. 
Dana. They were both busy men; but they 
were both men of remarkable power of labor, 



LABOR. 219 

and of singular resolution. Both gave their best 
thought to the enterprise, and as much time as 
it required. The staff of fellow-laborers was 
not large at first, but competent writers had 
charge of the articles ; a liberal spirit presided 
over the undertaking, which, though of gigantic 
dimensions and formidable responsibility, went 
on smoothly from week to week. Mr. Ripley 
himself wrote little or nothing ; but the labor 
of selecting themes and authors, of preserving 
due proportion of parts, and of correcting er- 
rors of statement or of style, was not light. 
The articles were anonymous ; a severe taste 
excluded individual peculiarities of manner and 
opinion ; a tone purely literary animated every 
page of the sixteen volumes. The subjects were 
allotted to the best known authorities, without 
regard to their ecclesiastical or party connec- 
tions, and were tried at the tribunal of histori- 
cal or literary truth before they were admitted. 
A close and ceaseless watch was kept on every 
line. Experts in learning passed sentence on 
each contribution submitted. In fact, no means 
were left untried to secure, as far as possible, 
immunity from error. A supplementary vol- 
ume, published each year, supplied such addi- 
tions as the progress of events in the old world 
or the new made necessary, until a complete 
revision of the whole work was required; but 



220 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

these volumes made no part of the Cyclopaedia 
as being under the care of its editors. The 
first two or three volumes of the main work 
were edited solely by Messrs. Ripley and Dana; 
others, associate editors, came in later, and con- 
tinued, most of them, till the end. 

The first edition was finished in 1862. A 
complete revision was begun in 1867-68, and 
completed in less than three years. Though 
made under the same conditions and auspices 
as the first, the same editorial care, and, as far 
as could be, the same critical supervision, it was 
substantially a new work. Each article was sub- 
mitted to thorough re-handling; the schedule 
was reconstructed; much of the old material 
was dropped ; the proportionate length of con- 
tributions was altered to suit the increased or 
diminished importance of subjects ; and other 
writers were called in to make good the places 
of men whom death had removed, or whom cir- 
cumstances had rendered unavailable or need- 
less. The new book was a monument of edito- 
rial capacity. To it Mr. Ripley gave every 
hour be could spare from other duties; having 
it on his mind when it was not on his hands; 
considering, planning, making notes in his mem- 
orandum-book ; anxious lest any piece of valu- 
able information should be omitted, or any 
defective workmanship be admitted; looking 



LABOR. 221 

after the small details of literary execution, and 
feeling his way in advance of the contributors 
that he might not be taken by surprise. Every 
day found him at his post for several hours, 
cheerful, buoyant, unresting, and unfatigued, 
never off his guard, but never petulant. After a 
pleasant greeting to his fellow-workers he went 
steadily to work himself, and silence, broken 
by suppressed murmurs only as questions were 
asked and answered in an under-tone, reigned 
throughout the apartment. 

Around the editor in chief were ranged his 
staff. There was Robert Carter, a man of rare 
and extensive knowledge, for many years con- 
nected with the newspaper press, — an editor 
once and author himself, for a long time corre- 
spondent of " The Tribune " at Washington, and 
a trusted manager of " Appleton's Journal ;" 
Michael Heilprin, the omniscient, a Hebrew, 
of Polish extraction, formerly private secretary 
of Kossuth, — a man of boundless erudition, 
master of all languages, Eastern and West- 
ern, a nice critic of details, especially in his- 
tory, biography, philology, and geography, since 
known as the writer of a remarkable work on 
the history and literature of Israel ; Alfred 
Guernsey, for many years an important servant 
of the Harpers, conductor of their magazine, 
chief historian of their well-known " War of 



222 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

the Rebellion ; " Francis Teall, whose famil- 
iarity with the mysteries of a printing-office 
made him especially valuable as an inspector 
and corrector of proofs. Among the revisers 
were John D. Champlin, Jr., the well-known 
specialist, historian, and critic ; Julius Bing, the 
industrious literary purveyor ; J. R. G. Hassard, 
the accomplished writer on nearly all subjects ; 
R. A. Proctor, the astronomer: in all more 
than thirty men of more or less litera^ distinc- 
tion. With the world's literature beneath them 
suggesting the patient toil of past centuries, and 
the roar of traffic in the street outside to remind 
them of the age to which they belonged, these 
toilers pursued their unintermitted task of con- 
densing the thought of the generation into form 
for easy reference. The world was ten years 
older than it was when the " New American Cy- 
clopaedia " began to take the place of the admi- 
rable but long obsolete " Encyclopaedia Ameri- 
cana." History had made great strides; the 
globe had yielded up many a secret to modern 
investigation ; philology had unlocked treasures 
of literature ; criticism had reduced ancient 
prejudices to fictions ; charity had pulled down 
some of the most stubborn barriers of faith ; a 
respect for truth had to some degree taken the 
place of pride of opinion ; it had become in 
some measure practicable to seek knowledge 



LABOR. 223 

where aforetime nothing but ignorance, super- 
stition, and bigotry was looked for, and the mak- 
ers of the great Cyclopaedia had free permission 
to obey the summons. 

An abbreviated edition of the work, in four 
volumes, was made immediately on the comple- 
tion of the revision. This was finished two 
years before the death of the senior editor. 

By agreement with the publishers the two 
editors received between them twelve and a half 
cents on every volume sold, or one dollar each 
on every set. For extra work on the revision 
Mr. Ripley was paid two hundred and forty 
dollars a month. This began in 1876, and was 
continued till the condensed edition in four vol- 
umes was finished. The number of volumes 
sold of both the large editions, at this date, is 
one million four hundred fifty nine thousand 
five hundred and fifty; an immense sale, due 
in part, no doubt, to the timeliness of the proj- 
ect, in part also to the reputation of the pub- 
lishers and the well-established fame of the edi- 
tors in charge. 

In 1862, about the time the first edition of the 
Cyclopaedia was completed, Mr. Ripley formed 
a plan for two volumes of papers " selected from 
the contributions of the writer to the periodical 
press during a long term of years," and even 
wrote a preface explaining the contents. The 
collection was to be called, — 



224 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

BOOKS AND MEN. 

A SERIES OP 

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 

BY GEORGE RIPLEY. 

The volumes were never published ; the ma- 
terials for them were probably never selected. 
The author was easily diverted from any proj- 
ect of that kind. A native modesty forbade 
his attaching importance to the necessarily fu- 
gitive productions of his pen. In an age of book- 
making he was no book-maker ; and besides, his 
time was so fully occupied that small leisure 
remained for the suitable compilation and edit- 
ing of a series like that contemplated. Had 
his engagements permitted a careful treatment 
of the themes discussed, he might have been 
nerved to undertake a work of permanent value, 
for which he was well qualified. But there was 
little to stir ambition in the plan suggested, 
and he never found opportunity to alter it. 
With remarkable capacity for authorship, and 
more than the common inducements to it in 
the form of pecuniary advantage, his standard 
of excellence was high. Literature was his mis- 
tress, — an exacting one, — whom, in his opin- 
ion, he could better serve by the anonymous 
daily effort of journalism into which he might 
put conscience, knowledge, cultivation, experi- 
ence, taste, than by any more formal adventure 



LABOR. 225 

of authorship. His individual claim to recog- 
nition lie prized less than the influence which 
he might exert through the impersonal quality 
of his mind. This he spent without stint. His 
friends will acknowledge the dignity of his 
course, however much they may wish that they 
possessed some permanent memorial of his ac- 
tivity, or that the world might know its full 
debt to his faithfulness. Whoso lives for hu- 
manity must be content to lose himself. No 
less than this shall be said here for the man who 
furnished material for many books, but pub- 
lished none. 

15 



CHAPTER VI. 

SORROW. 

George Ripley has now become a man of 
letters, pure and simple, examining all subjects 
in a spirit purely literary. Never a dogmatist, 
never a partisan, never a controversialist, never 
a theorist or champion of opinions ; always an 
eclectic in the best sense of the term, always a 
believer in partial but advancing truth, he was 
now less than ever disposed to commit himself 
to any school or system. His faith was in 
thought, his interest was in knowledge, let the 
thought bear what name it might, let the knowl- 
edge proceed from whatsoever quarter. In intel- 
lectual passion he was deficient. His heart was 
warm ; his conscience was true ; his mind was 
serene and impersonal. A loyal friend, a faith- 
ful citizen, his devotion to truth was dispassion- 
ate, for the reason that it was modest. Affec- 
tion clung to forms ; conscience revered visible 
symbols ; but truth was bodiless and eternal. 
That he dared not limit. That he could only 
worship from afar. And so strong was his con- 
viction of the claims of intellectual liberty that 



sorrow. 227 

to him it would have been nothing short of trea- 
son to confine himself within a sect. A theist 
he undoubtedly was, a clear, decided one ; but 
his theism was wider than any denomination, 
broader than any creed. Intolerance, in his 
view, was folly. The boldest affirmation was 
likely to be nearest to wisdom. His faith might 
best be expressed in the lofty language of the 
* waiter of the Apocryphal Book of Ecclesiasti- 
cus : " In all ages, entering into holy souls, she 
[Wisdom] maketh them to be sons of God and 
prophets." Such souls were, in his judgment, 
few ; but he revered them wherever found, and 
he found them in all communions. In a review 
of Mr. Mallock's volume, " Is Life Worth Liv- 
ing?" he wrote, " The consciousness of a spirit- 
ual life has not passed away from a host of 
minds of profoundest thought, who find nothing 
in the disclosures of science to shake their faith 
in the eternal verities of reason and religion." 
Later (1879), reviewing Arnold's " Light of 
Asia," he said, " As an exposition of the relig- 
ious system of Buddha we reckon this poem as 
no more successful than the numerous similar 
attempts in prose. We have no sufficient data 
for the solution of the problem. But as a mag- 
nificent work of imagination and a sublime ap- 
peal in the interests of the loftiest human vir- 
tue, we tender it the sincerest welcome, and 



228 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

grasp the author by the hand as a genuine 
prophet of the soul." In a notice of Kiddle's 
" Spiritual Communications,'' printed about the 
same time, he writes : u The book affords a 
fearful example of the danger of substituting 
the suggestions of personal fancy for the univer- 
sal principles of morality, and the practical rules 
for the conduct of the understanding, which have 
been accepted in all civilized communities." 

He was too well acquainted with schools of 
philosophy to commit himself without reserve 
to either, and too familiar with creeds to repeat 
any with full conviction. Having personal 
friendships with men and women of all persua- 
sions, he preserved his mental integrity without 
restricting his social intercourse ; in fact, the 
completeness with which he kept his private 
faith enabled him to maintain his social inter- 
course; for it was quite well understood that he 
was purely a man of letters, whose imperson- 
ality of opinion made bigotry impossible on his 
part, and disarmed the spirit of proselytism in 
others. He met nobody on the dogmatical 
plane ; on the intellectual plane he cordially 
met anybody. He was never heard to pray ; 
he was never heard to say his catechism ; he 
was never heard to make confession of sin. 
Yet who dares to say he was wanting in humil- 
ity ? The books he loved to read were books 



sorrow. 229 

on physiology. Yet he was no materialist, but 
an idealist to the end of his days. No church 
could claim him, but no church could disclaim 
him ; and in hours of intimacy, when the veil 
was removed from his spirit, his discourse took 
a tone of solemnity which could belong only to 
one who stood near the dividing line between 
the temporal and the eternal, and was keenly 
sensitive to the lightest breath of moral or spir- 
itual skepticism. To Theodore Parker, in 
1852, he wrote : " I regard Schleiermacher as 
the greatest thinker who ever undertook to 
fathom the philosophy of religion. If he had 
only placed his c Infinite ' in the human soul he 
would have come upon the right track, shad- 
owed forth by the i Saifiw ' of Socrates, the ' To 
®€tov ' of Plato, the ' O ©eos con TTvevjuLd ' of Christ, 
and whatever else acknowledges the God with- 
in us, or theism against atheism. In this faith 
we have a grand comprehensive reconciliation. " 
The atheistical theory, however set forth, had 
no attraction for him. "I have read but little 
of Feuerbach. He seems crabbed and dog- 
matic in his atheism, and can have little influ- 
ence, I presume, except on the confirmed sys- 
tem-lover." 

The following extracts from printed judg- 
ments may fitly be cited here as indicating the 
cast of his thought on religious themes : — 



230 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

[Buchner's Man in the Past, Present, and Future.] 

Among the physiologists of the extreme material- 
istic school. Dr. Buchner has gained a certain degree 
of celebrity by the freedom of his speculations and 
the audacity of his theories, rather than by any pre- 
tensions to accuracy of learning or soundness of judg- 
ment. The present work, like the productions by 
which he is already known to the public, bears the 
marks of crude and superficial reflection ; its method is 
loose and desultory, its reasonings are plausible rather 
than convincing, and its statements appear to aim at 
popular effect rather than at precision and exactness 
of information or sobriety of inference. As a writer, 
Dr. Buchner has no mastery of ease or elegance of 
expression ; his sentences are framed after the most 
confused models of German construction, and the 
lack of flow and neatness in his style makes the pe- 
rusal of his disquisitions more of a task than a pleas- 
ure. The interest of this volume consists in being 
one of the latest, and, in some respects, one of the 
most complete, accounts of the results of modern re- 
search with regard to the physical history and devel- 
opment of the human race. 

[Matlock on Modern Skepticism."] 

The present work, " Is Life worth Living," like 
the previous productions of the author, indicates an 
excess of imagination over clearness of insight and 
soundness of judgment. His fancy takes alarm at 
the portentous shapes which are dimly descried 



SORROW. 231 

through the mist of a mirage, instead of his pa- 
tiently examining their proportions in the veracity 
of sunlight. His description of modern science, in 
many respects, must be regarded as a caricature, of 
which the colors have been supplied by the intensity 
of his fears rather than by the tranquil observation of 
facts. It is certain that the men of science of the 
present day are not tinctured with the spirit of un- 
belief to the extent which is represented by the au- 
thor. The successors of Faraday and Agassiz, who 
share their faith while they inherit their science, are 
by no means few in number or narrow in influence. 
The consciousness of a spiritual life has not passed 
away from a host of minds of profoundest thought, 
who find nothing in the disclosures of science to 
shake their faith in the eternal verities of reason 
and religion. Nor, perhaps, is the present age more 
deserving the name of an age of unbelief than preced- 
ing ages. The eighteenth century presented an exam- 
ple of denial and doubt, of profane scoffing and disso- 
lute living, to which no parallel can now be found ; but 
it was succeeded by a more passionate love of truth, a 
higher tone of ethics, and a deeper sense of religion. 
If the reign of dogma has been weakened, the domin- 
ion of a spiritual faith has gained fresh power and 
won wider triumphs. 

Mr. Mallock's book, accordingly, affords a curious 
example of taking a part for the whole, of overlook- 
ing a wide circle of social and human interests, of 
ignoring large classes of profound and powerful 
thinkers, of taking for granted the death of religious 



232 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

faith, as he witnessed the obsequies of certain tempo- 
rary forms. The dirge-like notes with which he ac- 
companies the procession will not be accepted as the 
music of humanity, nor will the burial of the soul 
be deemed the inevitable result of the progress of sci- 
ence. 

[William E. Charming, ,] 

. . . His integrity of purpose was equally con- 
spicuous in his convictions and in his doubts. Next 
to his love of humanity, his most ardent passion was 
the love of truth, if it was not his love of truth 
which inspired his profound devotion to the interests 
of humanity. He had no taste and little capacity for 
controversy. He delighted in the comparison of ideas, 
especially with men whose earnestness and good faith 
inspired him with confidence in their intentions ; but 
the atmosphere of strife and debate was not congen- 
ial with his feelings, and prevented the free exercise 
of his highest faculties. There was almost a child- 
like simplicity in his mind, which, in spite of perhaps 
an excessive self-consciousness, led him to listen 
meekly to suggestions, even from the humblest quar- 
ters, and to maintain the attitude of an inquirer rather 
than a teacher. He had no tincture of a dogmatic 
spirit. He was suspicious of broad generalizations, 
tracing their origin to imagination and eloquence 
more often than to accurate research, and hence was 
always disinclined to the adoption of a system. He 
rejoiced in every glimpse of truth which was opened 
to his sight, but never presumed that he had ex- 



sorrow. 233 

hausted the circle of thought. The tone of his mind 
was that of profound reverence. To him few things 
were small, trivial, or unimportant. There was a 
solemn air in his manner, a tremulous urgency in his 
accents, when he spoke of the " deep things of God," 
of the mysterious greatness of the soul, of the divine 
endowments and destiny of man, which is sometimes 
faintly, but never fully, reflected from his written 
page. Still his style is marked by a gracious fervor, 
that is scarcely surpassed by its chaste beauty. It is 
not the glow of a heated furnace, but the warmth of 
a vernal day, revealing the presence of celestial fires. 
Dr. Channing's mind attained its greatest freedom 
and power in his pulpit discourses. Neither in his 
colloquial intercourse nor in his familiar correspond- 
ence was he so free from formality, so natural and 
spontaneous, so entirely himself, as when address- 
ing the congregation of worshipers on a congenial 
theme. His slight frame vibrated with emotion. His 
low voice, instinct with pathos and tenderness, touched 
the heart of every hearer. The scene was alive 
with more than dramatic intensity. It was not ex- 
citement, it was not enthusiasm, but the solemn com- 
munion of soul with soul. 

. . . The impression of the character of Dr. Chan- 
ning produced by this volume [E. P. P.'s " Keminis- 
cences "] is in accordance with the estimate that has 
long since been formed by intelligent readers of Amer- 
ican biography. He is set forth as a man of singularly 
earnest convictions, and even of an ardent tempera- 
ment, although usually concealed beneath his habit- 



23-4 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

ual reserve of manner and delicate reticence of 
expression. 

A more devout and unworldly spirit was never 
manifested in the flesh. Like President Edwards, 
whose writings were the subject of his early study 
and admiration, he was enamored of " the beauty and 
loveliness of divine things." But he was no ascetic, 
no enthusiast, no dreamer. The serene wisdom of 
his counsels was as remarkable as his austere devo- 
tion to duty. The workings of his mind were practi- 
cal rather than speculative. The great problem of 
his life was the application of ideal principles to the 
cultivation of personal character and the beauty and 
perfection of the social order. With a more than 
common share of self-consciousness, he was singularly 
free from the influence of selfishness. His solicitude 
for himself was never equal to his sympathy for 
others. His own interests were always postponed to 
the claims of truth, of righteousness, of humanity. 
In the formation of his opinions, whether on a point 
of speculative thought or of ethical action, he was 
curiously deliberate, tentative, open to suggestion, 
modest in decision, but firm in his grasp of principle. 
His faith was without dogmatism, his religion with- 
out pretense; his conduct a transparent expression of 
the "beauty of holiness." Rapt in the contemplation 
of ideal truth, " his soul was like a star and dwelt 
apart," but he never cherished the loneliness of 
spirit which withdrew him from the sympathy of 
his kind, or the circle of pure and devoted friendship. 



sorrow. 235 



Theism. 



The vital question of modern inquiry relates to 
the first principle and origin of existence. Every 
movement of thought is but the effort of the mind 
to grasp the individual facts of nature in a compre- 
hensive unity, and to interpret the universe according 
to the suggestions of reason. In all ages men have 
attempted an ideal construction of natural phenom- 
ena. But they have never been able to rest in any- 
thing short of an absolute unity : a unity which is 
the negation of all plurality and change ; a unity 
which is unconditioned itself, and yet conditions ev- 
erything ; an eternal constancy, which produces all 
geneses and all variety. Thinkers have always ap- 
prehended, with more or less clearness, that the first 
principle must be one or nothing. This is tacitly 
conceded in all modern systems of thought. On this 
ground Biichner the materialist, Spencer the dynam- 
ist, Hegel the idealist, Cousin and Coleridge the spir- 
itualists, meet in common. The ultimate problem of 
all philosophy is to determine the relation of human 
thought to this absolute principle. Among the solu- 
tions of the problem there are four distinct types, 
which, in the opinion of the author, exhaust the dis- 
cussion. First, it has been maintained that matter, 
with its essential attribute of force, explains the ori- 
gin of the universe. Second, the absolute principle 
has been found in force, considered as the cause of all 
the manifold phenomena of the universe. Third, 
thought has been assumed as an eternal process of ev- 
olution, forming the supreme principle of all reality. 



236 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Fourth, the causative principle of existence and phe- 
nomena is an unconditioned will, a living and per- 
sonal Being, determining all the conditions of the 
universe with reference to a final purpose. The first 
and second of these systems are essentially the creeds 
of atheism ; the third is that of pantheism ; the fourth, 
that of theism. 

In the summer of 1848 his wife dropped her 
teaching at Flatbush. Late in the autumn of 
that year they came to New York. About that 
time, either immediately before or immediately 
after their removal, she professed her faith in 
Romanism. Tired and disappointed, her illu- 
sions dispelled, her enthusiasm exhausted, — 

Weary of herself, and sick of asking 
What she was and what she ought to be, — 

she sunk, like a spent child, into her nurse's 
arms. " I have found my mother," was her 
cry. The conversion must have been a grief 
to her husband ; but if it was he did not be- 
tray it. This change of faith made no divis- 
ion between them. Whatever lack of mental 
and spiritual correspondence it may have occa- 
sioned, it caused no break of private sympathy, 
no withdrawal of affectionate respect. They 
honored and loved each other as before. He 
appreciated her devotion, aided her charities, 
took an interest in her occupations, rejoiced in 
her happiness, humored what to him seemed her 
fancies. Their social delights they shared to- 



sorrow. 237 

gether. Agreeing not to talk on questions of 
religious opinion, they were quite free to com- 
municate on other subjects, and never allowed 
any root of bitterness to spring up and trouble 
them. They were seen together in public, and 
in private were the delight of a select circle of 
friends. Their lot was humble, but their hearts 
were light. Her days were consecrated to of- 
fices of piety and love ; his were spent in the 
drudgery of literature. Hers were passed among 
the poor and friendless of the metropolis ; his 
in his office, among his books. But in the even- 
ing they met and conversed cheerily, as if nei- 
ther was preoccupied. 

In 1859, while stooping to pick up some 
article which had fallen behind her dressing- 
table, she struck against the sharp corner of 
the marble top with such violence that the pain 
obliged her to sit down till she could recover 
herself. She said nothing about it, but soon 
afterward noticed a hard lump in the right 
breast, at the bruised spot ; still she said noth- 
ing. In June, 1860, Mr. Ripley being called 
to Greenfield to the death-bed of his brother 
Franklin, she consulted a physician, who was 
shocked at the progress of disease. Still she 
said nothing to her husband till two days after 
his return, when, on his remarking that he had 
dispatched the work which had accumulated in 



288 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

his absence, she threw out a hint of her condi- 
tion. It was too late. There was an operation ; 
she apparently recovered, was happy, gentle, 
sweet, and so merry that it was a joy to see 
her. In October they made a little journey to 
Boston and Greenfield. But in November the 
suffering returned, and went on increasing in 
severity until the end, in February, 1861. The 
agony was intense, but the patience was saint- 
like ; the serenity of spirit was unbroken. No 
murmur escaped the lips ; no expression of im- 
patience added to the grief of those about her ; 
her thoughts were not for herself, but for those 
whose pain she could do nothing to relieve. 
Her faithful husband did for her all that was 
in his power : sat by her, consoled her, cheered, 
procured every alleviation his means would 
allow, administered with his own hand the 
soothing draught, was comforter, nurse, physi- 
cian, most tender and thoughtful of friends. 
They had but one room. His writing-table was 
in one corner, and there he sat at work, night 
after night and day after day, his brain reeling, 
his heart bleeding, his soul suspended on her 
distress. So it went on for three months. A 
kind friend in the house said at last : " Occupy 
our rooms to-night ; my wife and I will go to 
a hotel." That night was her last. Her hus- 
band told his sister he could have shouted for 
joy to think that the agony was over. 



sorrow. 239 

The funeral was celebrated with all possible 
circumstance, in fullest accordance with the rite 
of the Roman Church, with music and priestly 
vestments, as the authorities desired and as 
affection prompted. The remains were taken 
to Boston. Prayers were said in the old Pur- 
chase Street meeting-house, then a Catholic 
church, — he sitting where she sat in years gone 
by, her body occupying the place of the ancient 
communion-table. At his instance, ground was 
consecrated for her resting-place in the old 
cemetery at Cambridge. The pale, bloodless 
man went back to a cold fireside. 

With the death of his wife, George Ripley's 
life seemed to be at an end. She represented 
his whole past. She had been his intellectual 
companion during the studious years of his 
ministry ; she had shared his visions of the 
new earth ; she had borne her part cheerfully 
in the labors of Brook Farm ; she had aided 
his efforts to build up a new home in another 
city ; she had endeared herself to his soul by 
her fortitude during a terrible sickness; she 
was consecrated by the experience of death. 
Her departure left him not only alone, but 
lonely and depressed. He went from New 
York to Brooklyn, where he lived in retire- 
ment for several months. 

The following note to his niece well describes 
his condition at this period : — 



240 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

New York, June 26, 1861. 

My dear Niece, — Tbe month of June has al- 
most gone, and I have not yet replied to your very 
kind note, inviting me to spend a few days with you in 
Greenfield before the close of the delightful month. 

But I must not yield to the temptation which you 
place in my way ; at present I have neither health 
nor spirits which would make me a welcome guest, 
even with the nearest relatives ; and I am so tied 
down with expediting the publication of our thirteenth 
volume, to make up for the delay of the last two, 
that I cannot leave my post without great incon- 
venience, although I must manage to get a few days 
some time in July, which I have long promised to 
my Boston friends. This must be the extent of my 
visiting for the summer, but perhaps the pleasant 
autumn days may entice me out of my solitude to 
look again on your beautiful hills and meadows. 

I beg you to give my kind remembrances to your 
brother Franklin, and my affectionate regards to my 
new niece, whose acquaintance I shall look forward 
to making with pleasure. If they should be in New 
York during the summer, or at any other time, I shall 
depend on being informed of their arrival, and shall 
rejoice to do anything in my power ( little, indeed, at 
the best ) to make their visit agreeable. Marianne 
spent last Sunday week with me at Brooklyn, and 
on Monday I went with her to her green retreat at 
Morrisania. It is a perfectly rural place, abounding 
with shrubbery and flowers, and with a pleasant out- 
look on the forest. She seems quite contented in 



SORRO w. 241 

her new home, and I have no doubt that the change 
of air and scene will do her good. 

With my love to your mother, and kind regards to 
any of my relatives you may chance to see, 

I remain ever your affectionate friend and uncle, 

G. R. 

From this seclusion he emerged in many re- 
spects an altered man ; affable and courteous as 
ever, winning in manner, sweet in disposition, 
but silent as to his former life. To the outside 
observer, the casual acquaintance, the tempo- 
rary friend, the ordinary associate of the office 
or the parlor, he seemed light-hearted, chatty, 
companionable. They did not see or know 
what an abyss of memory lay hidden beneath 
the charming verdure of his conversation, and 
perhaps thought that he had ceased to think 
of what he did not disclose. A deep reserve 
forbade the intrusion of profane eyes, and he 
passed through the rest of his life a man little 
comprehended and for the most part misunder- 
stood. Naturally, he, being now alone and of a 
social disposition, went into society more than 
he was used to, saw more people, sought more 
the companionship and solace derived from in- 
tercourse with congenial friends, who never 
found him dull or self-absorbed. Still his sol- 
itary hours were many. The fires were not 
extinguished; the embers still were glowing; 

16 



242 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

but a thick layer of ashes concealed them from 
view, and he suffered no breath but his own to 
blow it off, or waken the brands to flame. 

Leaving Brooklyn, he returned to New York to 
live quietly in his literary tasks, in the society 
of a few secluded friends, and the musings of 
his own heart. His week-days were passed in 
the toil of an exacting calling ; on Sunday he 
did not fail to be in his place at the church 
whose ministrations carried him >>ack nearest to 
the associations of his youth. 



CHAPTER VII. 
THE NEW DAY. 

Thus the uneventful years went on. His la- 
bors became more concentrated ; his engage- 
ments less distracting. The Cyclopaedia was 
finished. Work had wrought upon him a sav- 
ing, healing, consoling influence. He took a 
wider range of relaxation ; he went more freely 
abroad. One evening, at the house of a friend, 
he met the lady who opened to him the prospect 
of a new career. She was German by birth, 
and Parisian by education ; well born, well con- 
nected ; amiable ; a favorite among her friends, 
respected by all who knew her, attractive in 
person and manner. She was a widow, having 
made an unfortunate marriage in Germany, 
which had been terminated in New York; then, 
rather than go back to her father's house, where 
she was greatly desired, she preferred to main- 
tain herself, in America, as a teacher of music, 
which was one of her accomplishments. She 
was younger than Mr. Ripley by thirty years, 
— so much younger, in fact, that he proposed at 
first to adopt her as his daughter, doubting if 



244 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

he could ever marry again. This arrangement 
being impracticable, he made her his wife. The 
marriage took place in the autumn of 1865, 
and, it is not too much to say, disclosed to him 
anew life. It withdrew him from his seclusion ; 
brought him into the social world ; carried him 
for the first time to Europe ; threw him into re- 
lations with eminent people in the scientific and 
literary circles of foreign lands; enlarged the 
sphere of his intellectual sympathy ; and, in a 
word, introduced him to another order of men 
and women. From this point his career as a pub- 
lic man may be said to have begun. He was, as 
before, a man of letters, but his power as a man 
of letters was more widely acknowledged, if not 
more extensively felt. He spent as much time 
as ever at his desk, perhaps more ; but his 
hours of solitude were fewer. Society occu- 
pied them, bringing the relief of change and 
the stimulus of new thoughts. Contact with 
his kind quickened his intellectual force. His 
sympathies expanded, and while the Puritan 
austerity of his character did not relax, the cor- 
diality of his attitude towards all sorts and con- 
ditions of men was more decidedly marked. He 
seemed more worldly because his world was 
larger. A letter to his sister belongs to this 
period : — 



THE NEW DAT. 245 

New York, February 25, 1866. 

My dear Marianne, — We were delighted to re- 
ceive your kind letter of February 4, but we have both 
of us been in such constant whirl of social engage- 
ments that writing has seemed pretty much out of 
the question. We still continue to have a great many 
invitations, and the accepting of the same and mak- 
ing calls in return absorb almost every hour of leis- 
ure, and we seldom have an evening at home. Lent 
at last brings a little respite, and I begin to think that 
it is quite a necessary, if not a beautiful, institution. 
In spite of everything, however, I have written more 
for " The Tribune " since November 1 than ever be- 
fore. My articles appear regularly every Thursday 
in the Daily, making nearly a page always, and 
never less than four columns ; but it is often some 
time before they appear in the Semi- Weekly or 
Weekly, if they get in at all. I do write a good deal 
for " The Independent," and have had long articles 
there on Robertson's Memoirs, Bushnell on the 
Atonement, and Archbishop Hughes's Life. 

I have decided to go to Europe about the last of 
April, to remain till the middle of October. We 
think of sailing from Boston, making our visit there 
the week previous, and would like to spend a day or 
two in Greenfield on the way, if it would n't put the 
folks out there, with the idea of being obliged to en- 
tertain us. M. E. is very kind and affectionate, and 
seems to take a great interest in her new relative, 
whom I am sure she will admire very much when 
she comes to know her. With kindest remembrances 
to all the B.'s. Yours ever truly, G. R. 



246 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

His first visit to the Old World was made in 
the summer of 1866, the season of the short, 
sharp war between Prussia and Austria, an 
account of which he wrote in letters to " The 
Tribune," distinguished by the fullness and ac- 
curacy of their information, as well as by sa- 
gacious observation of the sentiments of broth- 
erhood which were beginning to stir the heart 
of the German people, and portended their 
eventual unity. His wife's relations in Stutt- 
gart put him in the way of intelligence on this 
subject ; it was the talk of the dinner-table, and 
the papers in the excellent reading-room were 
full of it. The following letters to his sister 
tell the story of his travels and the condition of 
his mind in words of his own. His journal re- 
cords the effect which the first view of the Alps 
made on his mind: " It was singularly impress- 
ive and suggested profound reflection. But to 
me it was no place for the study of natural the- 
ology, to which use it is often applied ; the ques- 
tion of absolute causation found no answer 
here ; I was struck with the whole as a wonder- 
ful display of the physical forces of the universe. 
Obvious law and order, however, were wanting. 
The spectacle reminded me of nature in some 
grim frolic or terrible convulsion, rather than 
of the serene and fruitful harmonies which 
stamp the eternal Cosmos." 



EUROPE. 247 

Stuttgart, September 13, 18G6. 
My dear Marianne, — On returning here on 
the 1st instant from our August tour in Switzerland 
and Italy, I found your good letter of August 13, 
which gave us both great pleasure. We had a truly 
delightful month in traveling : the weather, almost 
without exception, was perfect, the accommodation 
on the road excellent, and the journey throughout 
filled with scenes of novelty and splendor. After 
sending the little Carmela [daughter of Mrs. R. by 
the former marriage] and her nurse to Stuttgart, we 
left Baden-Baden on the 1st of August for Switzer- 
land. Since that time I have written nothing for 
" The Tribune." Now that the war is over I could 
find little to write about that would interest our read- 
ers ; for although the objects one meets with in trav- 
eling are full of excitement to the observer, they have 
been described so often that they seem like an old 
story. On leaving Baden, in the northwest corner of 
Switzerland, I was trudging up a steep hill to see the 
ancient cathedral, when who should I meet but my 
friend C. T. Brooks, the Unitarian minister of New- 
port, and the translator of Goethe and Richter, whom 
you must know by reputation, if not personally. The 
rencontre was quite unexpected and very agreeable, 
and I took it as a good omen on our entrance into 
Switzerland. Our next stage was Neuchatel, passing 
Lake Bienne, which is bordered for miles with luxu- 
riant vineyards, in which we could distinguish the 
rich clusters of almost ripe grapes. At Neuchatel, 
which is situated on a lake of the same name, we had 



248 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

our first distinct view of the Alps, giving us a fore- 
taste of the mountain scenery, which proved so grand 
and often so terrific on a nearer acquaintance. From 
Neuchatel we proceeded to Geneva, passing through 
Yverdon, the seat of Pestalozzi's famous experi- 
ments in education ; Lausanne, where Gibbon com- 
posed his immortal history ; and Coppet, where was 
the residence of Madame de Stael, during her ban- 
ishment from Paris by Napoleon. We then went up 
the Lake of Geneva to Vevey, and, turning our faces 
once more to the North, proceeded through Freyburg 
to Berne, the capital of the Swiss Confederacy. 
Here we met Parke Godwin and his family, who 
sailed about a month before us, and have been pass- 
ing the summer in Switzerland. Our next movement 
was to Thun, and up the lake of that name to Inter- 
lachen, one of the most romantic spots in the alpine 
valleys. From here we made excursions to Lauter- 
brunnen, the Staubbach Falls, and the glaciers of 
Grindelwald. The next day we crossed a branch of 
the Alps by the Brunig Pass to Lucerne, and had 
our first experience of the wonderful alpine roads, 
which are among the greatest triumphs of civil en- 
gineering in the world. The path has often been 
gained by cutting through the solid rock, making a 
platform, or rather a shelf, for the carriage on the 
side of a precipice. We look down upon the awful 
depths below ; but the road is so guarded with strong 
parapets that all sense of danger is lost. The scen- 
ery is at once majestic and beautiful. Frequent wa- 
terfalls rush down the side of the mountain, gloomy 



EUROPE. 249 

heights tower above, while meadows of the softest 
green and richest vegetation repose in the distant 
valleys at our feet. During our stay at Lucerne we 
made an excursion on the celebrated lake, and visited 
the scenes of the famous legends in the history of 
William Tell. The scenery in this quarter is as re- 
markable in its kind as any in Switzerland, and made 
a deep impression. Here we made the acquaintance 
of a charming English family named Egremont, con- 
sisting of the widow of a clergyman and her two 
daughters. They took a great fancy to Louisa, and 
made themselves very agreeable by their simple, 
kind-hearted manners, and their refined and intelli- 
gent conversation. At Lucerne we also received a 
visit from my old friends Mrs. Professor Robinson 
(Talvi) and her daughters, from New York, who, 
since the death of Dr. Robinson, have resided mostly 
in Europe. They called, however, while we were 
out, and as we had not time to return the visit we 
did not see them. 

We now turn our steps towards the east of Switz- 
erland, and by way of Zug, Zurich, and Lake Wallen- 
stadt proceed to Ragatz and Coire. Here we take a 
private carriage for a three days' journey over the 
Alps to Lake Como, by the famous Spliigen Pass, 
and commence the most interesting portion of our 
tour. We were accompanied by an Italian gentleman, 
an old friend of my wife and her family, whom we 
met at Baden, and whose experience we thought 
would be of service to us in traveling in Italy. I 
can give no idea of the wonderful road over the al- 



250 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

pine heights, especially the stupendous Via Mala, 
where a path is hewn out between two precipices 
30 feet from each other, and between 500 and 600 
feet above the Rhine, which forces itself through 
the rocky bed as a narrow, roaring rivulet. Lake 
Como, which we have traversed from end to end, 
presents a striking contrast in its quiet loveliness, 
and the smiling fields and beautiful villas on each 
side. Thence we proceeded to Milan (noblest of 
cities), Turin, Alessandria, Genoa, Parma and Mo- 
dena, Bologna, Florence, Pisa, and Leghorn. We 
did not think it prudent to extend our journey to 
Rome and Naples, as the weather was growing very 
hot, and the season for malarial fever and other dis- 
eases was at hand. The military occupation of the 
railroads, near the seat of war, also prevented us from 
fulfilling our intention of visiting Venice. On that 
account we were able to make a longer stay at Bo- 
logna (the native place of our Italian friend) and at 
Milan, as lovely a city, I am sure, as all the king- 
doms of the earth can show. It was time to retrace 
our steps, and, proceeding up the delicious Lake Mag- 
giore, we crossed the Alps in a diligence at night by 
the Bernhardin Pass, and, stopping at Friedrichshafen 
(where the King of Wiirtemberg has a rural resi- 
dence) and Ulm, we arrived safe and happy at Stutt- 
gart on Saturday, September 1st. We found Carmela 
and the family well and delighted to see us again, 
and our stay proves so agreeable that we decide to 
remain here till the 16th, and then go directly to 
Paris, instead of leaving on the 10th for the Rhine, 



EUROPE, 251 

Cologne, and Brussels, as we had intended. We ex- 
pect to remain in Paris about a fortnight, spending 
only a day or two in England previous to sailing in 
the Scotia, October 6th. I shall hope to be in New 
York about the 16th, and shall be very glad to find a 
letter from you at the Tribune office, as there will 
be no time to receive one at Liverpool before we 
sail. I have written to Mr. T., who takes charge of 
my affairs in my absence, to engage us temporary 
lodgings at the Fifth Avenue Hotel; but beyond that 
I have made no arrangement for the winter. After 
the quiet and beautiful domestic life which we have 
enjoyed for so great a part of the summer, the pros- 
pect of a New York boarding-hous^ is anything but 
delightful, and I confess that I feel a little dismayed 
at the enormous expense which is involved for such 
comparatively unsatisfactory returns. The mode of 
life in Europe is generally far more simple than with 
us, especially among people of moderate circum- 
stances, although more real elegance and incompar- 
ably more comfort can be obtained at the same cost 
than in New York or Boston. I do not wonder that 
so many Americans prefer a long residence in Eu- 
rope from motives of economy, although for myself, 
with pursuits so decidedly American, I am not 
tempted to follow their example. It will be a great 
sacrifice to me, as well as to her mother, to leave be- 
hind the little Carmela. She is the most faultless and 
charming child that you can imagine, with an uncom- 
monly fine intellect, a most affectionate and loving dis- 
position, and a beauty of character beyond her years. 



252 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

But she is so much better off here than she could be 
in New York that we do not hesitate for a moment. 
Her grandparents, moreover, who love her more than 
if she were their own child, would never consent to 
part with her, and as they have brought her up as 
their own for more than six years their claim can- 
not be disputed. She is in the very best social cir- 
cles in Europe ; all her surroundings leave nothing to 
be desired. She is in one of the best schools in 
Germany, and, with a private governess and accom- 
plished masters in every special branch, will receive 
an education that, with my limited means, it would 
be impossible to give her in America. With every- 
thing that wealth and affection and the highest social 
standing among those with whom her life will prob- 
ably be passed can impart, I think it would be folly 
and selfishness on our part to insist on taking her 
with us to America, where it is no easy matter to 
establish and maintain a comfortable home for our- 
selves. 

I am not surprised that you decided to remain 
so long in Madison. As long as you can keep a 
contented mind there, perhaps you are better off 
than you could be in Massachusetts. After the de- 
parture of S B , you will not have much to 

interest you, taking it for granted that Mrs. A 

and her daughter will be in the vicinity of Boston. 
I am glad you find so kind and intelligent a friend in 

W K , although I have little faith in any 

attempts to promote Liberal Christianity in the West. 
Nearly thirty years ago I went over the whole ground, 



HOME. 253 

and, from personal observation from Albany to Chi- 
cago, became satisfied that during the present age the 
prospects of religious progress in that quarter would 
not be brilliant. The people are too secular, too 
little inclined to study and reflection, too much ab- 
sorbed in business and politics, to appreciate the 
serene and beautiful spirit of pure Christianity. 

I saw the other day, in an American newspaper, 
some account of the will of my old comrade, J. H., 
who, it seems, died worth nearly half a million. He 
had just graduated as a charity scholar at Cambridge 
when I first saw him ; afterwards became a pro- 
fessor, then a railroad engineer, and married Mrs. F., 
and that is about the last I ever heard of him. Pray 
tell me all you know about it. I fear you will hardly 
have patience to read this long yarn, and will be glad 
that Louisa is so taken up with visitors that she is 
not able to write this time. With kind regards from 
her and me to Mr. B. and family, 

I am truly yours, G. R. 

New York, November 1, 1866. 
My dear Marianne, — I take it for granted that 
you have received my letter of some ten days since, 
announcing our safe return. "We have taken very 
pleasant lodgings, No. 122 Madison Avenue, in a 
private family, with only six or eight other boarders, 
and consider ourselves quite fortunate in having been 
able to make arrangements for the winter so speedily 
and so agreeably. The price, however, is so far in 
advance of my means and plans, that, as soon as I 



254 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

can find a more suitable shelter, I shall not fail to 
do so. 

Since my return I have not had leisure to turn 
round, much less to write anything but what was 
strictly necessary in my daily tasks, which I resumed 
a week ago last Monday. I have constant visits, 
both at the house and office, which consume my time, 
and make the days and evenings all too short. Au- 
gusta, as we generally call her now, is warmly wel- 
comed home by our friends, both old and new. She 
is still troubled with a cough, but she is looking re- 
markably well, and I trust the cough is not of a seri- 
ous nature, although it has now hung on for several 
months. A few years ago she suffered in a similar 
way from the effect of the Brooklyn air, and was 
obliged to remove to New York, but was at last cured 
by the use of cod-liver oil. She is very happy in our 
new lodgings, and likes New York better than I do, 
although she is naturally a little homesick at times 
after the dear little Carmela and her parents, who 
love her so much. But she makes friends of all who 
know her. 

I have written much more than I expected to do 
when I began, and hope to receive an answer soon. 
Don't think me indifferent to the progress of Liberal 
Christianity in the West. I only suggested some ob- 
stacles from my own experience ; but no doubt great 
changes have taken place since I was there. 

Ever yours, G. E. 



THE NEW DAY. 255 

New York, February 12, 1867. 

My dear Marianne, — I have both your letters 
of January 18th and 28th, but, as usual, have been so 
busy as not to be able to find a moment for writing 
in reply. " The Tribune," in its enlarged form, gives 
me more space than heretofore, and as a rule I have 
two or three columns twice a week, usually on Thurs- 
days and Saturdays, besides a column of literary 
items on Monday, which it is a good day's work to 
prepare. I also find it convenient to do whatever 
extra work I can find, and at present contribute a 
good deal to "The Independent," which "The Spring- 
field Republican " says is edited by infidels and Uni- 
tarians. In last week's paper, the articles on Par- 
ton's " Webster," N. P. Willis, and Victor Cousin 
were mine, though without my name. I have other 
articles on hand, and shall continue to write from 
time to time, so you see my pen has to keep jogging 
on in the old track, and leaves me little leisure for 
anything else. We are not visiting quite so much as 
last winter. Augusta still suffers from a cough, and 
is not able to go out often in the evening, and, unless 
the weather is pleasant, she stays in the house all 
day. She had an attack of bronchitis three years 
ago, and has coughed more or less ever since. In 
other respects she has excellent health, is always in 
fine spirits. 

We had very pleasant letters last week from Stutt- 
gart, from Mr. and Mrs. Horner, little Carmela, her 
governess, and from an old friend of my wife's, for- 
merly her governess, now living at Baden-Ba<l£n, 



256 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

where we saw her in July. Carmela writes me a 
letter in English, in which she is making rapid and 
good progress, and I trust will speak- it as well as 
German by the time we see each other again. She 
is a sweet, loving child, very attractive in all her 
ways, and without any apparent fault. We are both 
homesick for her always, but I would not on any ac- 
count have her in our rough-and-tumble city until she 
is a good deal older than she is now. She is now 
in a quiet, domestic atmosphere, with every possible 
advantage for education and health, and, although 
petted by her grandparents, seems to be entirely un- 
spoiled. She is very fond of her u papa and mamma,'' 
and with her artless and affectionate nature wins the 
love of all who know her. I forgot whether I told 
you that she has taken my name, and is now called 
Carmela Ripley. 

I rather regret that a small annual sum could 
not be provided for our sister during the short 
time that she will probably remain with us ; as in 
that case I should be able not only to make a lib- 
eral contribution, but to supply any deficiency, so 
that she should not have the fear of want, which is 
really worse than actual poverty, as long as she lives. 
As it is, I presume that I can occasionally do enough, 
with my limited means, to keep her from suffering, 
although it is incomparably more to my taste to have 
a fixed and regular arrangement than to leave such 
things in uncertainty. I sent her $100 the first of 
February, which I hope will do for the present; but 
should you learn in any way that there is need of 



THE NEW DAT. 257 

more, you must not hesitate to inform me. We can- 
not be too thankful that the enterprising Rachel did 
not persuade her to join the wild-goose Jaffa scheme, 
which she was strangely inclined to do a year ago. . . . 
It was quite an adventure for you to go up to the 
grand Sanhedrim at Milwaukee, and I am sure you 
must have enjoyed it very much. I am happy to 
hear such good accounts of Mr. Kimball ; your inter- 
est in him and in his religious plans is better for you 
than any medicine, though I do not advise you to 
take Liberal Christianity as a drug. He is evidently 
one of the offshoots of the great banian-tree planted 
by Theodore Parker, which take root wherever they 
find a congenial soil, and bring forth abundance of 
beautiful and wholesome fruit. What a treat it was 
to you, to be sure, to meet the seraphic R. W. E. 
away up there in your ends of the earth ! I have seen 
him several times within a year, — this winter, just 
before he started for the West. I really think he 
grows softer and more human in his old age. With 
kindest love from Augusta and me to the family, 
Ever yours faithfully, G. R. 

The enjoyment derived from this visit, the 
sense of refreshment after so many years of 
wearing toil, the feeling of mental expansion, 
of elation, arising from an extended intercourse 
with nature and men, naturally made him wish 
to visit Europe again, more at his leisure ; 
accordingly, in the spring of 1869 he made 
arrangements for a more comprehensive tour, 

17 



258 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

embracing London, the abode of so many men 
of power in science, philosophy, and literature ; 
and Italy, which was to be the scene of the 
ecclesiastical Council designed to reanimate the 
faith, unite the sympathies, and quicken the zeal 
of Catholic Christendom. The experiences of 
this trip are recorded in a series of remarkable 
letters to "The Tribune," too long to be printed 
in full, and too solid to be abbreviated. The 
first is dated "at sea, May 20th." Mr. Ripley 
enjoyed the ocean voyage, the leisure, the oppor- 
tunity for random reading, the easy, various 
society, the stir of life among the sailors, the 
aspects of water and sky. He had no suffering 
from sea-sickness, was happy and companiona- 
ble, full of practical wisdom, without assump- 
tion or pretense. He was but ten days in 
London, at the height of the season, too; his 
pockets filled with letters of introduction to dis- 
tinguished people, whom he was interested to 
see ; his mind teeming with new suggestions, 
and alive to all impressions of genius in indi- 
viduals and in the people. Every hour, con- 
sequently, was occupied. The description of 
Derby Day was written in London, May 27th, 
but it was not till he reached Baden-Baden, in 
the middle of July, tbat time was allowed for 
a tranquil review of his exciting visit to the 
metropolis of the world. The usual objects 



ENGLAND. 259 

which attract the stranger are passed by with- 
out notice : the Tower, the ancient city, the 
historic houses, streets, squares ; the Temple, 
the Monument, the relics of antique grandeur, 
the Museum, the public and private picture- 
galleries, the art collections, the theatres, clubs, 
concerts, parks, gardens, palaces, receive no 
attention. He is absorbed in the study of 
human nature in its actual condition, the 
physical and mental peculiarities of the peo- 
ple, the state of society, efforts to reform 
abuses, popular habits and tastes, movements 
towards harmony in trade and religion, cur- 
rents of opinion among scientific men of all 
orders, tendencies of speculation in the world 
of thought, the men and women whose names 
were associated with intellectual advance, the 
prospects of civilization in its higher aspira- 
tions. Two or three extracts from a not very 
copious and somewhat too personal journal for 
public eyes will give an idea of his alertness of 
mind : — 

Wrote a Dote to Prof. Jowett, asking permission 
to pay my respects to him, as a prominent man in 
the English movement for a more liberal theology. 
Had a very gracious reception. Talked of Emerson, 
T. Parker, Frances Power Cobbe, with whom he has 
entire sympathy, and Bunsen. Touched on President 
Johnson and American politics generally. Sound in 



260 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

Northern faith. He is a mild, pleasant-looking man, 
of about forty-five, of brisk, lively manners (perhaps 
not unlike Dr. Bushnell), quite free from affectation, 
and an agreeable, unpretending talker. English in his 
tones and ways. Cake and wine on the table, which 
he offered me, but I did not partake. He keeps 
bachelor's hall in a spacious suite of rooms, elegant 
but not splendid. Very comfortable and home-look- 
ing, — a mode of life which every true student might 
envy. Celibacy is common in Oxford, but by no 
means universal even among the Fellows. Cultivated 
to a high degree, and with excellent taste, his better 
instincts prompt him to seek a more liberal theology 
than that of the Church, but he is a follower of lead- 
ing minds, not a path-finder. Probably inferior to 
Colenso in boldness and sagacity, certainly in prac- 
tical influence. 

Impressed with the commercial greatness and power 
of London. Admirable physique of the people. Emer- 
son's description true to the life. Prevailing igno- 
rance beyond a certain line. Great order and ex- 
ternal morality in the streets. 

I like very much to witness the displays of human 
strength. Whether physical or intellectual, the spec- 
tacle is amost equally interesting. The sight of or- 
ganized labor has a perpetual charm. 

Called on John Bright, Herbert Spencer, Louis 
Blanc, TV\ H. Channing. None at home but Louis 
Blanc. A keen, black-eyed, vivacious Frenchman, 



EUROPE. 261 

full of fire and enthusiasm, demonstrative in bis man- 
ner, and eloquent in his discourse. He speaks Eng- 
lish correctly, but with a strong French accent, uses 
much gesture, and declaims rather than talks. He 
commands the language more easily in its rhetorical 
forms than in familiar conversation. He seems to 
be born for a political orator, and should be in the 
legislature. We talked of French and American 
politics, on which he gave an elaborate dissertation. 
His bearing is earnest and affectionate, too expressive 
for common occasions. 

An idea of his activity may be conveyed by 
the subjects of his letters: G. H. Srnalley, 
John Bright, Thorold Rogers, a cooperative 
congress ; the working people of England ; 
Thomas Hughes, W. H. Channing, meeting 
for free Christian Union, Athanase Coquerel, 
J. J. Taylor, James Martineau ; Scientific Inter- 
views, Professor Tyndall, Philosophical Club, 
Professor Huxley ; Mr. Congreve and Positiv- 
ism, Dr. Carpenter; Herbert Spencer; Thomas 
Carlyle ; Louis Blanc ; Frances Power Cobbe ; 
Henry Morley ; English railways, porters, cab- 
men, horses ; English hotels, costume, business 
habits, mode of speaking, etc. These mani- 
fold themes are treated deliberately, carefully, 
always discerningly, usually with all needed 
fullness. In cases where his sympathy was en- 
listed, or where the public interest might be 



262 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

supposed to be secure, the notice became dis- 
cussion, intelligent and ample. 

The early summer was spent in travel, of 
which no record remains. For him there would 
not be much in Paris, or any smaller cities 
between London and the delightful valley where 
lies the charming Baden-Baden, the favor- 
ite summer resort of his wife's family. Here 
the tired man had rest. Early in August he 
started for a few weeks' travel in Switzer- 
land and Southern Germany. His course led 
directly to Geneva by way of Basle and Neu- 
chatel ; thence to Chamouny, Martigny, Ville- 
neuve, Vevey, Berne, Interlaken, and over the 
Brunig to Lucerne, stopping on the road long 
enough to visit places of interest, enjoy the 
scenery, and take in the spirit of the country ; 
from Lucerne to Fluelen, up the St. Gothard 
and Furca Passes to the Rhone glacier, coming 
back to Lucerne. This was a fresh starting- 
point to Zurich, Schaffhausen, Constance, and 
Germany. Ulm, Augsburg, Nuremberg, Hof, 
and Dresden led by slow stages to Berlin, which 
was reached in season for the Humboldt festi- 
val, September 14th. Here were Mr. and Mrs. 
George Bancroft, and here a delightful week 
was spent in public and private festivities. 
From Berlin the travelers went to Hamburg 
for a few days, thence back to Stuttgart through 



ITALY. 263 

Hanover, Frankfort, Mannheim, and Heidelberg. 
At Stuttgart there was another rest from Sep- 
tember 26th to October 26th. 

From Stuttgart Mr. Ripley and his wife went 
to Munich, Vienna, over the Semmering Pass to 
Gratz, Trieste, Venice, Milan, Bologna, Flor- 
ence, to Rome. Neither Munich nor Vienna 
engaged long or deeply a man who had no 
passionate love for painting, sculpture, music, 
or the purely aesthetic arts which minister so 
largely to the enjoyment of strangers in those 
pleasant cities. The grandeur of the Semmer- 
ing Pass impressed him as much by the comfort 
of its railway accommodations and the skill of 
the engineering as by the wildness of its w T intry 
landscape. The charming town of Gratz was 
interesting through the refinement of its soci- 
ety, the intellectual character of its best people, 
and the beauty of its situation. At Trieste he 
visited the tomb of Winkelmann, and renewed 
his old acquaintance with Mr. A. W. Thayer, 
the devotee of Beethoven. Venice detained 
him a few days, but had no enchantment for 
him. In Milan he admired the cleanly streets 
and well-developed population. The art of 
Florence engaged him less than the schools, 
churches, sanitary condition, and municipal 
regulations of the town. The Florence of the 
future was more interesting to him than the 



264 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Florence of the past. Between Florence and 
Rome he made no stop, though Perugia and 
Assisi both lay in his track. His impressions 
of Rome are best conveyed in the letters which 
he sent to " The Tribune," wherein he described 
not only, the (Ecumenical Council w T hich he 
went there to portray, but the city itself, as it 
appeared twelve years ago. On the whole, it is 
not probable that the famous gathering in the 
Eternal City had any more capable critic than 
he. Scholars inside the Church were preju- 
diced one way ; scholars outside the Church 
were prejudiced another. Mr. Ripley was a 
Protestant, but he was a philosopher and a man 
of letters, serious as well as candid, as free 
from prejudices as one can be who has con- 
victions ; for thoughtfulness and love of truth 
combined to make him just. He was a close 
observer of whatsoever came under his eye ; for 
example, in Rome he noticed that the horses 
were shod only on the forefeet, and were driven 
with a nose-band instead of a bit, in single 
harness, though provided with a safety rein 
communicating with a curb-bit in case of need. 
He descants on the health of Rome, and makes 
shrewd observations on the evil mode of build- 
ing, ventilation, heating. A little hump-backed 
beggar girl on the Spanish steps attracts his 
attention and enlists his interest more than the 



ROME. 265 

grandees. The Jews in the Ghetto engage his 
sympathy by their family affection, their in- 
dustry, their sobriety, and their patience. He 
is disappointed in the beauty of feature and 
form of the Roman women. He studies the 
countenances of the priests, the habits of the 
common people, the effects of the Catholic re- 
ligion and the papal rule on the population, 
the organization of instruction, the character of 
journalism, and whatever besides may concern 
an observer of society. 

As the proceedings of the Council became 
monotonous and spring advanced, Mr. and Mrs. 
Ripley left Rome for a short trip to the south 
of Italy, Naples, Palermo, of which no record 
remains. The climate was not favorable to ex- 
cursions, and, under such circumstances, there is 
little enjoyment in those regions, especially to 
a traveler who is without home pursuits. The 
summer brought them back to Germany and 
to the routine of family life, always so grateful 
to this man of studious habits. His hearty en- 
joyment of intellectual things and of New Eng- 
land associations was amusingly shown in the 
delight he expressed on discovering at a book- 
shop a volume of Mr. Emerson's essays, which 
had appeared since his departure from home. 
His glee finds voice in his journal, where it is 
unusual that so much space is given to any one 
subject : — 



266 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

I discovered a copy of Emerson's " Society and 
Solitude," republished in London by Sampson Low. 
The sight of it was like manna in the wilderness. I 
became the happy owner of it at once, and it afforded 
me a rich feast for the rest of the journey. Some 
portions of it, I think, are equal to anything that 
Emerson has ever written. Emerson is a great mas- 
ter in his way. His style has an incomparable charm. 
Its silvery rhythm captivates the ear. The affluence 
of his illustrations diffuses a flavor of oriental spicery 
over his pages. As he confesses in the essay on 
" Books," his learning is second-hand ; but every- 
thing sticks which his mind can appropriate. He de- 
fends the use of translations, and I doubt whether he 
has ever read ten pages of his great authorities, Plato, 
Plutarch, Montaigne, or Goethe, in the original. He 
is certainly no friend of profound study, any more 
than of philosophical speculation. Give him a few 
brilliant and suggestive glimpses, and he is content. 
His catalogue of books is limited in the extreme, and 
presents few hints of practical value. Much of the 
work is devoted to the comparative influence of soli- 
tude and society, in addition to the chapter with that 
title. The subject is touched in several of the essays, 
especially in those on " Clubs " and " Domestic Life." 
Emerson is fond of conversation, but it always disap- 
points him. With him it is an experiment constantly 
repeated, but always without success. His final 
conclusion is that the true man has no companion. 
There may be times when two persons may hold gen- 
uine communion, but the presence of a third person is 



EMERSON. 267 

impertinent, and always breaks the charm. Such oc- 
casions, however, are rare, and must be numbered by 
moments, and not by hours. His remarks on Art 
show his want of philosophic culture. The principal 
point which he urges is that Nature is the foundation 
of Art, and that the great Artist is spontaneous, and 
not reflective ; both good points, but by no means 
original. Take away the splendid language in which 
they are clothed, I find that but little valuable in- 
struction remains. There are frequent hints of the 
grand Platonic theory of the True, the Beautiful, the 
Good, as the exponents of the Infinite in Humanity, 
which long since ripened in my mind, as the true 
" Intellectual System of the Universe ; " but he does 
not appear to be aware of its fathomless significance. 
In thus renewing my acquaintance with Emerson, 
I am struck with certain rare combinations which may 
serve to explain his position. His rejection of dog- 
mas is cool and merciless ; but he shows no sympathy 
with vulgar and destructive radicalism. He asserts 
an unlimited freedom of the individual, but maintains 
a moral tone, rigid almost to asceticism. With the 
wild havoc which he makes of popular opinion, he al- 
ways respects the dignity of human nature. Emer- 
son is essentially a poet. His intuitions are in the 
form of images. Few men have such positive tend- 
encies toward the Ideal. But his sympathy with ex- 
ternal nature is equally strong. He is a keen and 
accurate observer. His perceptions are true, so far 
as concerns the material world and the qualities of 
character that are universal in man. His judgment 



268 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

of individuals is often prejudiced. The practical 
shrewdness interwoven with his poetical nature is 
one of the secrets of his power. You attempt to fol- 
low his lofty flight among the purple clouds, almost 
believing that he has " hitched his wagon to a star," 
when he suddenly drops down to earth, and surprises 
you with an utterance of the homeliest wisdom. On 
this account, when they get over the novelty of his 
manner, plain men are apt to find themselves at home 
with him. His acquaintance with common things, 
all household ways and words, the processes of ev- 
ery-day life on the farm, in the kitchen and stable, 
as well as in the drawing-room and library, engages 
their attention, and produces a certain kindly warmth 
of fellowship, which would seem to be incompatible 
with the coldness of his nature. Emerson is not with- 
out a tincture of science. He often makes a happy 
use of its results, in the way of comparison and illus- 
tration. But I do not suppose that he could follow 
a demonstration of Euclid, or one of the fine analyses 
in physics of Tyndall or Huxley. Of such a writer 
as Herbert Spencer he has probably no more than a 
faint comprehension. Emerson has less wit than I 
have usually been inclined to believe ; of humor only 
a slender trace. Perhaps the subtlety and refinement 
of his illustrations may sometimes have the appear- 
ance of wit, but not its real flavor or effect. 

It may be interesting to compare this with 
an earlier sketch : — 

With the admiration that Mr. Emerson's works 



EMERSON. 269 

have called forth to so remarkable an extent, it would 
be a poor compliment to the understanding of his 
readers to question their extraordinary merit. There 
must be something in their intrinsic character which 
touches a deep chord in the human heart, for they are 
almost entirely destitute of the qualities which are 
usually the conditions of a high reputation. 

One is immediately struck with the passionless tone 
in which Mr. Emerson's statements are set forth. 
They seem like the utterance of a being who has no 
part in flesh and blood. He is never beguiled into 
error by the indulgence of his sympathies. His 
words are dealt out with an elaborate nicety, as if 
they were the dread oracles of fate. This habitual 
reticence gives a peculiar coloring to his style. It 
has the purity, the radiant whiteness, of the virgin 
snow, but also its coldness. . . . 

The passionless tone of his writings, combined with 
the tendency to a sharp and unrelenting analysis, pre- 
serves Mr. Emerson from every symptom of a sec- 
tarian or party bias. ... In fact, his aversion to 
system would prevent him, under any circumstances, 
from exerting a more than individual influence ; sys- 
tem to him is slavery. ... If we may guess the 
methods naturally adopted by his intellect, from the 
universal character of his writings, we should say 
that any regular sequence or continuity of thought 
was altogether foreign to his habits. He lives in the 
sphere of contemplation, not of consecutive reflec- 
tion. We find no traces of the progressive evolution 
of thought which produces such an admirable effect 



270 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

in works, for instance, like the Dialogues of Plato, 
which Mr. Emerson cannot but acknowledge as mas- 
terpieces of human genius. . . . 

Nor in the sphere of moral convictions is Mr. 
Emerson free from similar inconsequences. He pays 
a profound homage to the moral sentiment in man, 
the eternal law of right, which manifests itself equally 
in purity of heart and the gravitation of the planets, 
but he has no perception of the passionate humanity, 
the potent attraction, which identifies private and uni- 
versal interests ; and accordingly he finds the highest 
form of character in the preservation of a stern, frigid, 
stoical individuality. This error is the cardinal defect 
of his writings, and exhausts them of the moral vital- 
ity and vigor which would give an electric glow to 
his brilliant intuitions. . . . 

The secret of Mr. Emerson's unquestionable 
strength lies in the profound sincerity of his nature. 
In his freedom from all affectation, in his attachment 
to reality, in his indignant rejection of all varnish, 
gilding, and foppery, whether in character or in liter- 
ature, he has scarcely an equal. He looks at the 
universe with his own eyes, and presents the report 
of his vision, like the testimony of a man under oath. 
He feels the intrinsic baseness of deception, and is 
equally unwilling to play the part of a pretender or 
a dupe. In listening even to his mystic suggestions, 
you are sure that no attempt is made to put you oil 
with words, and that the obscurest expression stands 
for some fact in the mind of the speaker. He gives 
you himself, and not the dry bones of some grisly 
ancestor. 



EMERSON. 271 

This truthfulness to himself is the pledge of origi- 
nality. His writings thus possess the sparkling fresh- 
ness of a salient fountain. His thought and his im- 
gery alike are the product of his own nature. They 
could not have been derived from any other source. 
Used by any one but himself, they would appear 
forced and trivial. But flowing in their honeyed 
sweetness from his lips, they seem so redolent of all 
delicious aromas that they might even allure the 
swarm of bees that rested on the mouth of Plato. 

Mr. Emerson's instincts impel him to penetrate to 
the hidden essence of things. He is never content 
with the most obvious view, which is often only the 
mask of reality. If this sometimes gives his pages 
an air of too subtle refinement, and leads us to sus- 
pect that many of his Orphic sentences are only in- 
genious conceits or brilliant paradoxes, it also adds a 
marvelous force to the frequently occurring passages 
which startle us by the radiant light they throw on 
subjects which had been concealed in the " Infinite 
Profound.'' This tendency characterizes all his judg- 
ments of man, of history, and of literature. His 
opinions derive a peculiar value from their unceas- 
ing exercise. Even when we are compelled to show 
them no quarter, it is never on the ground of their 
being superficial or commonplace. 

His philosophy, which teaches that God and him- 
self are the sole existences, is confirmed by his per- 
sonal idiosyncrasies. Hence he leaves no realm of 
beauty unvisited. He gathers the most impressive 
and magnificent images from every sphere of nature, 



272 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

from the loftiest to the lowest. The plow in the fur- 
row, " the meal in the tub. and the milk in the pan," 
present him no less fruitful sources of inspiration 
than the starry heavens and the purple dawn. Coldly 
as he looks on individual life and sympathy in them- 
selves considered, he loves to draw materials for his 
affluent poetical eloquence from the humblest phases 
of humanity. He has sufficient familiarity with the 
lore of books to furnish out a dozen pedants. In the 
exuberant life of his expressions we never think of 
his learning, because he has not been mastered by it 
himself. 

But charming as all this was, the worker 
could not remain idle. A socialist convention 
at Stuttgart excited an ardent interest in the 
old Brook Farmer, whose aspirations after a 
better human condition never became cool, and 
who, though very far from being a socialist in 
any customary sense, could not help watch- 
ing sympathetically any movements looking 
towards a readjustment of social relations. 
This, too, was the summer of the war between 
France and Prussia, the beginnings and early 
stages of which he reported in four remarkable 
letters. 

In the autumn of 1870 he was again in New 
York, at his post of duty, rejoicing in the exer- 
cise of his literary faculties under conditions of 
his own choosing, and in Xew York he passed 
the remainder of his days. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

RECOGNITION. 

A National Institute of Letters, Arts, 
and Sciences was projected in 1868, in the or- 
ganization of which Mr. Ripley took an active 
part, and in the conduct of which he would have 
been prominent, if it had succeeded. The plan 
commanded his entire sympathy. So hearty 
was his interest that he spoke of his member- 
ship in a slight sketch of himself, made for a 
biographical volume, and, in his journal, solilo- 
quized in a strain of earnestness that is inter- 
esting in itself, but especially interesting as re- 
vealing the bent of his disposition : — 

For myself, I have no ambition to be gratified in 
the matter. I rather like the consciousness of pos- 
sessing merit, which, with my want of sympathy with 
the present form of society, I have taken pains to 
hide, rather than to bring before the public. But it 
pleases my taste to breathe again the intellectual and 
literary atmosphere in which I was so much at home 
in Boston, — to which I am so much a stranger in 
New York. Hence, this Institute awakens in me an 
interest something like those glorious reunions of old 
18 



274 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

times. The presence of great, or even greatly culti- 
vated, men exerts a certain gracious magnetism over 
my nature, calls out my best faculties, and gives me a 
higher consciousness. 

But, above all, this Institute may do much toward 
spreading sound knowledge, elevating the intellectual 
standard, and giving a healthy tone to literature in 
this country. I feel something as Buckminster did 
when he said that he was justified in laying out so 
much money on the purchase of books, because his 
library might have some effect in preventing the 
country from lapsing into " unlettered barbarism," 
to which it was exposed by the power of the money- 
making interest. 

Hence, I mean to work for the Institute as far as 
I can, without neglecting other duties. It will give 
me a stronger tie to society ; it will help to brighten 
and keep fresh my powers ; it will open to me a 
sphere for the use of gifts that have lain dormant 
for some time, and enable me to do more for the 
objects to which my life has been devoted, the im- 
provement and elevation of mankind. 

In February, 1874, the choice fell on him to 
deliver the address on occasion of laying the 
corner-stone of the new Tribune building on 
the site of the old one. His words are worth 
remembering : — 

Friends and Fellow-Laborers, — We have 
assembled to-day in commemoration of the past and 
for the consecration of the future. The original 



'< THE TRIBUNE." 275 

foundation of " The Tribune " was laid in sentiment 
and ideas. Horace Greeley was a man of no less pro- 
found convictions than of lofty aspirations. The ten- 
derness of his emotional nature was matched by the 
strength of his intellect. He was a believer in the 
progress of thought and the development of science ; 
in the progress of society and the development of 
humanity. Under the influence of this inspiration, 
" The Tribune " was established more than thirty 
years ago. At that time its basis was spiritual, and 
not material ; strong in ideas, but not powerful in 
brick and mortar, in granite or marble, in machinery 
or in money. We have come to-day not to remove 
this foundation, but to combine it with other elements, 
and thus to give it renewed strength and consistency. 
It is our purpose to clothe the spiritual germ with a 
material body, to incorporate the invisible forces 
which inspired the heart of our founder in a visible 
form, in the shape of a goodly temple, massive in its 
foundation, fair in its proportions, and sound in its 
purposes. The new "Tribune" of to-day, like the 
old " Tribune " of the past, is to be consecrated to the 
development of ideas, the exposition of principles, and 
the promulgation of truth. The ceremony which is 
now about to be performed typifies the union of spir- 
itual agencies with material conditions, and thus pos- 
sesses a significance and beauty which anticipate the 
character of the coming age. The future which lies 
before us, it is perhaps not presumptuous to affirm, 
will be marked by a magnificent synthesis of the 
forces of material nature and the power of spiritual 
ideas. 



276 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Allow me one word in illustration of this prophecy, 
and I will yield the place to the fair hands and the 
fair spirit whose presence on this occasion crowns the 
scene with a tender grace. 

About two years before the establishment of "The 
Tribune," dating from the death of Hegel in 1831, 
and of Goethe in the following year, the tendency of 
thought on the continent of Europe, which had been 
of an intensely ideal or spiritual character, began to 
assume an opposite direction. Physical researches 
rapidly took precedence of metaphysical speculation. 
Positive science was inaugurated in the place of ab- 
stract philosophy. The spiritual order was well-nigh 
eclipsed by the wonderful achievements of the mate- 
rial order. A new dynasty arose which knew not Jo- 
seph, and the ancient names of Plato and Descartes 
and Leibnitz were dethroned by the stalwart host 
which took possession of the domain of physical sci- 
ence. I need not rehearse the splendid discoveries 
which have signalized this period. Such acquisitions 
to the treasury of positive human knowledge have 
never been made in an equal time in the history of 
thought. More light has been thrown on the material 
conditions of our existence on earth than has been en- 
joyed before, since the morning-stars first sang to- 
gether. But the signs of the times indicate the com- 
mencement of a reaction. The age accepts the results 
of physical research, but refuses to regard them as the 
limit of rational belief. In resolving matter into mole- 
cules and molecules into atoms, the most illustrious 
cultivators of physical science cheerfully confess that 



RECOGNITION. 277 

they arrive at invisible forces, which no crucible can 
analyze, no microscope detect, no arithmetic explain. 
The alleged materialism of Tyndall and Huxley thus 
affords an unexpected support to the idealism of 
Berkeley. 

" The Tribune," it may be predicted, will continue 
to represent the intellectual spirit of the age. Faith- 
ful to its past history, it will welcome every new dis- 
covery of truth. Free from the limitations of party, 
in philosophy or religion, in politics or science, it will 
embrace a wider range of thought, and pursue a 
higher aim in the interests of humanity. Watching 
with its hundred eyes the events of the passing time, 
it will wait for the blush of the morning twilight, 
which harbingers the dawn of a brighter day. As 
we now place the votive tablet on its rocky bed, let it 
symbolize the radiant scroll of human knowledge re- 
posing on the foundation of eternal truth. 

That same year (the tribute was richly de- 
served, for never did private man make his in- 
fluence more widely or commandingly felt in 
high places than he) the University of Michi- 
gan conferred on him the degree of LL. D. It 
was fitting that such an honor should be paid 
by a western college to one who had so closely 
at heart the welfare of mankind, and who cher- 
ished such ardent hopes for the future of hu- 
manity. From one of the older institutions of 
the country, Harvard or Yale, such a tribute 
might not have been equally appropriate ; for, 



278 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

though advanced in years, he was a child of the 
new age, not a creature of the past so much as 
a builder of the coming civilization. From this 
moment he was a Doctor of Laws, — he, the 
disciple of a spiritual philosophy, the inaugura- 
tor of Brook Farm, the prophet of a better dis- 
pensation, the critic of codes and institutions, 
the devotee of ideas, the less than half-hearted 
observer of forms which failed to convey a 
thought. That the honor was welcome we may 
easily believe, for the recognition of merit is al- 
ways gratifying to its possessor ; and probably 
it was not the less welcome as coming from the 
land of promise. 

No one took more hearty interest than he in 
the tributes of respect that were paid to his 
friend Bayard Taylor after his appointment as 
Minister to Berlin, and previous to his departure 
on his mission. The Penn Club of Philadelphia 
invited him to a reception, which he could not 
attend, but to which he seat a response full of 
admiration for the traveler, journalist, poet, 
and man of letters, who had gladdened every 
State in the Union, and who, without doubt, 
would apply the old Quaker virtues to his new 
sphere as a diplomatist. The condition of his 
health also forbade his taking part at the ban- 
quet given to Mr. Taylor in New York. At the 
final hour he was obliged to send the following 
note : — 



BAYARD TAYLOR. 279 

37 West 19th Street, April 4, 1878. 

Dear Mr. Cowdin, — At the last moment I find, 
as I feared, that my health will not permit me to at- 
tend the banquet this evening. 

Having labored side by side with Bayard Taylor 
for so many years, — for, strange as it may appear, to- 
night he is my senior in the profession of journalism 
in this city, — having so long witnessed his devotion 
to duty, his energy of action, the kindliness of his dis- 
position, and the sweet and humane piety of his nat- 
ure, if I may so call it, as manifested in the love of 
whatever is beautiful and good, I should have been 
gratified to comply with your request to " offer a few 
remarks ; " but as I cannot now expand into a speech, 
I will ask your leave to offer a sentiment : — 

" Our honored and beloved guest : the pupil of two 
school-masters of the most widely opposite character, 
— the immortal founder of Pennsylvania and the 
illustrious poet of Germany, — who, combining the 
home-bred principles of William Penn with the cult- 
ured wisdom of Goethe, will bring the power of sim- 
plicity to the practice of diplomacy. 

Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill. " 

I remain, dear Mr. Cowdin, yours faithfully, 

Geo. Ripley. 

His feeling in regard to William Cullen Bry- 
ant, who died in June of the same year, is ex- 
pressed in the draft of an epitaph, which was 
found among his papers. It was never used : — 



280 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Sacred to the Memory of 
W. C. B. 

In order of time and excellence of genius 
one of the fathers of American poetry ; 
a writer of consummate English prose; by his wisdom 
and insight a journalist of masterly power ; 
though holding no public office, 
a statesman, of incorruptible integrity, of lofty pa- 
triotism, and of supreme devotion to the highest 
interests of his country. 
As a man, austere, religious, self-contained ; 
his life was an expression of his poetry, 
his death an illustration of the spirit of " Thanatopsis." 
B. Nov. 3, 1794. 

When Oliver Wendell Holmes reached his 
seventieth birthday nothing was more natural 
than that the publishers of " The Atlantic 
Monthly," which he had glorified by his genius, 
should celebrate the occasion by a banquet ; nor 
was anything more natural than their wish that 
the literary editor of " The Tribune " should 
grace it by his presence. He could not go to 
Boston, but he responded to the invitation in a 
tone that gave assurance of his sincere affection 
for the guest, and of his readiness to acknowl- 
edge the service of all good workers in the cause 
of letters. The word of regret which represented 
him at the Brunswick breakfast carried in it a 
heart full of thanks : — 



0. W. HOLMES. 281 

New York, November 25, 1879. 

Dear Sir, — I am truly sorry that it is not in 
my power to accept your kind invitation. It would 
give me the sincerest pleasure to join in the honors 
to the beloved poet, who, from my pupil in the uni- 
versity, has become my teacher in the high school of 
life. I would fain add a leaf to the laurel which will 
crown his brow, and confess my debt for the smiling 
wisdom, the exquisite humor, the joyous hilarity, the 
tender pathos that softens the lambent wit of the 
man who, on the verge of old age, has never grown 
old, and with the experience of years preserves the 
freshness of youth. 

With my best wishes that the light of his eventide 
may long shine with the morning beauty of his early 
manhood, I am most cordially, 

His friend and yours, Geo. Eipley. 

When the plan of a "Memorial History of 
Boston " was outlined, a chapter entitled " Bos- 
ton's Place in the History of Philosophic 
Thought," in the fourth and last volume, was, 
naturally, assigned to Mr. J. Eliott Cabot, a 
Boston man, living in Boston, an accomplished 
scholar, a diligent student in philosophy, a 
profound and original thinker on the problems 
which have most deeply engaged the human 
mind. On his declining the task by reason of 
preoccupation, it was, at the suggestion of ex- 
cellent judges, Dr. F. H. Hedge being of the 
number, offered to Mr. Ripley, as the best man 



282 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

they could have; his remoteness from Boston 
being waived in consideration of the impartial^ 
ity and comprehensiveness which distance might 
give to his view. He, though immersed in lit- 
erary occupation, accepted the duty at once, 
and instantly set about the studies preparatory 
to his sketch. He measured his space, selected 
his names, refreshed and fortified his recollec- 
tions, searched the processes of development, 
wrote, rewrote, weighed his words in scales of 
exact justice, and submitted his manuscript to 
his intimate friend George Bancroft before 
trusting it to the publisher. The pen dropped 
from his fingers midway in the work, and the 
uncompleted chapter was finished by another 
hand ; admirably finished, too, but not quite 
according to the plan which Mr. Ripley laid 
out, and which he alone could complete. The 
scheme was as remarkable for clearness as it 
was for candor of judgment, and the composi- 
tion is among the most careful productions of 
his skill. The space accorded to the writer did 
not permit a more extended range of thought ; 
it is simply astonishing that, having no more 
room, so much that was valuable should have 
been compressed into it. It is matter of regret 
that Mr. Ripley's excessive modesty prevented 
his yielding to Dr. Channing's frequent re- 
quest that he would write an account of mod- 



CHARACTERISTICS. 283 

em philosophical systems. The fragment left 
us in the " Memorial History " — so penetrat- 
ing, calm, and fair — makes the regret keen. 
A comprehensive work done in that spirit would 
possess singular worth ; for such complete ex- 
clusion of the partisan temper, combined with 
firmness of intellectual description, rare in any 
discussion, is quite unexampled in the discus- 
sion of those tormenting subjects which have 
been closely bound up with the issues of relig- 
ious faith. The admixture of sentimentality 
with charitableness commonly weakens the tol- 
eration, and makes the impartiality to be some- 
thing less than justice. In the case of George 
Ripley the line between religious feeling and 
philosophic thought was so sharply drawn that 
he could be at the same time discerning and 
believing, devout and fair. In his disposition, 
literature and dogma never clashed. The in- 
tellectual poise was perfect. However, at times, 
the strength of his personal affections might in- 
cline him to overpraise the work of a friend, a 
sense of equity, stealing out in some critical line 
or phrase, was certain to render the verdict true 
on the whole. 

The honors which bore witness to the appre- 
ciation of George Ripley's extraordinary capac- 
ity, the general recognition of his literary merit, 
the high place assigned to him as a critic of 



284 GEORGE RIPLEY, 

books, the public and private admission of his 
authority in the realm of letters, did not in the 
least degree impair his conscientiousness, or di- 
minish the carefulness of his work. No obscure 
man toiling for fame labored harder than he did 
to meet every condition of excellence. His pa- 
tience was inexhaustible; his persistency was 
prodigious. He would sit in his chair all day 
long, reading and writing, unconscious of fa- 
tigue, insensible to annoyance, heedless even of 
interruption, never complaining of over-pressure, 
piercing the heart of a volume with a glance, 
and throwing off page after page of manuscript 
with an ease of touch which betokened the 
trained mind as well as the practiced hand. 
To report the literary achievement of the last 
ten years of his life would be impossible. The 
columns of " The Tribune " bear witness to an 
amazing variety of toil, all executed with fidel- 
ity, much of it with distinguished power, some 
of it with rare elegance and grace of execution. 
The range of topics embraces the extremes of 
mental productiveness from the speculations of 
philosophy to creations of fancy. Within this 
period come the remarkable papers on Voltaire, 
Rousseau, Goethe, Carlyle, Bryant, which at 
the time they appeared were thought marvels of 
literary performance. Some of his most acute 
judgments of opinions and men are found in 



CHARACTERISTICS. 285 

these fugitive notices ; some of his most pene- 
trating ^lances into the unrevealed tendencies 
of thought. The review of Bascom's " Com- 
parative Psychology " is a luminous essay on 
the distinctions of thought which separate the 
schools of mental science from each other ; the 
review of Arnold's " Literature and Dogma " 
is a good example of the resolution with which 
the truth is insisted on, in spite of the literary 
grace that conceals and the ingenious specula- 
tion that confuses it. In no instance is judg- 
ment perverted. His antipathy to Joaquin Mil- 
ler (to cite a strong example) does not pre- 
vent him from giving Miller credit for " bold- 
ness of conception, vividness of description, and 
freshness and force of utterance." 

The characteristics of Mr. Ripley's literary 
method may easily be described. The feature 
of his work which stands out conspicuously is 
faithfulness of conception and execution. Be- 
fore dealing with any matter of importance he 
made careful preparation. Among his papers 
are sketches and studies for his review of Pro- 
fessor Bascom's book, for example. A vast 
deal of thought was bestowed on the chapter 
in the " Memorial History of Boston ; " many 
scraps of paper, containing hints, suggestions, 
names of prominent thinkers, titles of books, 
which formed links in the chain of philosoph- 



286 GEORGE RIP LET. 

ical development. In mastering the system of 
Hartmann, nothing would do but a study of the 
author in the original German. The review 
of Professor Bowen's volume had beneath it a 
close personal acquaintance with the systems 
there described. The estimates of Voltaire, 
Rousseau, Lessing, Goethe, Huxley, Spencer, 
to mention no more, were the result of wide 
reading, patient thought, and large consider- 
ation of historic mental conditions. His short- 
est notices usually contain some intimation of 
knowledge acquired in independent investiga- 
tions. A distinguished orator, being asked how 
he avoided in public the use of slang phrases, 
replied, " By always avoiding the use of them 
in private intercourse." On no easier terms can 
purity of speech be preserved. 

The competency of Mr. Ripley's literary 
judgments has often been remarked on. He 
did not wait till others had spoken, and then 
venture an opinion. He spoke at once, and he 
spoke with confidence, as one who had good 
reason for what he said. Whether the book in 
question was the " Scarlet Letter," the " Ori- 
gin of Species," or the " Light of Asia," the 
verdict was equally prompt and decided. There 
was no dogmatism, no boasting, no claim to spe- 
cial insight, no affectation of patronage ; simply 
a quiet recognition of talent and an apprecia- 



CHAR A CT ERISTICS. 287 

tion of its value in the world of letters. That 
his judgments were generally confirmed by spe- 
cialists is an evidence of their intrinsic worth ; 
that they were usually ratified by the public 
testifies to his knowledge of the public taste. 

The literary unprejudiced spirit of his criti- 
cisms appears in his treatment, so generous, 
yet so nicely balanced, of such totally dissimi- 
lar men as George H. Lewes and Herbert Spen- 
cer, the former of whom he distrusted, while in 
the latter he had confidence. The criticism on 
Judge Tourgee's novel, " A Fool's Errand," is 
a remarkable instance of equitable judgment 
on the part of one whose anti-slavery feelings 
were not ardent, and whose political sympa- 
thies, though clear, were not tinctured by party 
fanaticism. His agreement or disagreement 
with the author under review was felt to have 
no connection with the verdict of the critic. 

It has been said again and again, in fact it 
has become the fashion to say, that George Rip- 
ley belonged to the class of " genial" critics, 
who prophesy smooth things, who seldom notice 
what they cannot praise, who pick out of books 
the passages they can commend, and encourage 
where they should condemn. They who say 
this cannot be thinking of the frequent in- 
stances in which he exposed literary preten- 
sion, or of the severity of his treatment when- 



288 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ever shallowness or charlatanism tried to get 
access to the public ear. A survey of his work 
during a period of thirty years leaves no im- 
pression of such literary " good-nature " as he 
has been charged with. The careful reader 
will not fail to notice the qualification which 
is introduced into his most eulogistic articles, 
sometimes in a paragraph, sometimes in a line, 
sometimes in a guarded expression. Even his 
friends, who could not doubt his private affec- 
tion, have occasionally been surprised at the 
chariness of his admiration for their most ex- 
cellent performance ; supposing that he would 
share their enthusiastic sentiments towards 
their achievement, or that, if he lacked the dis- 
cernment, he would, at all events, be restrained 
by personal attachment from making the news- 
paper a confidant of his indifference. 

For the rest, his appreciation of excellence, 
his desire to encourage excellence wherever 
found, his sense of the importance of calling 
forth the intellectual stores of the people, his 
confidence in the medicinal qualities of praise, 
his sympathy with struggling talent, his natural 
hopefulness, and his steady allowance for imper- 
fection in all human workmanship abundantly 
explain the so-called " geniality " of his literary 
temper. He was afraid of chilling the buds 
of genius.. He believed in sunshine, in warm, 



CHARACTERISTICS. 289 

uasive, enticing air, in gentle breezes, in 
gracious showers of rain, in balmy seasons ; 
well knowing how easily ambition is disheart- 
ened. Many an author whose place in the 
world of letters is secure looks back gratefully 
to his helping counsel, ascribing to him the 
strong impulse which was needed to overcome 
the diffidence of youth ; and many an author, 
whose diffidence required pruning in order that 
the fine fruit of talent might appear, is grate- 
ful to him for kind suggestion thrown in at the 
decisive moment. Both praise and blame were 
felt to be judicious as well as benignant. The 
judiciousness tempered the benignity; but the 
benignity furnished the motive for the judi- 
ciousness. 

His modesty was as remarkable as his ca- 
pacity. A young friend, ambitious and indus- 
trious, having in the dedication of his first book 
spoken of him as " the Nestor of ' The Trib- 
une,' " and called him " the Father of Literary 
Criticism in the American Press," received from 
him the following note : — 

Office of The American Cyclopaedia, 
New York, May 20, 1875. 

My dear W , — I have no objection what- 
ever to your connecting my name with yours in your 
forthcoming volume, if it will be any pleasure to you 
or any service to your book ; on the contrary, your 
19 



290 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

friendly recognition is very agreeable to me. But I 
must unequivocally, decidedly, peremptorily — and if 
there is any other longer and stronger dictionary 
word, please pick it out — protest against the extrav- 
agant and untenable form in which you have worded 
it. Though an old soldier, I am no Nestor ; though 
of the masculine gender, no father of American lit- 
erary criticism, nor of anything, or anybody else. 
When I have the pleasure of seeing you again, I will 
enlighten your youthful mind on the history of Amer- 
ican criticism, and you will hide your head in re- 
morse. At present think of Bryant, Verplank, Cogs- 
well, Henry, Godwin, Greeley, Eaymond, in New 
York ; Dana, Channing, Tudor, Willard, Sparks, Ev- 
erett, Palfrey, Willard Phillips, in Boston, — all of 
whom were distinguished reviewers and critics before 
my name was ever heard of, except as "a Socinian 
minister, who left his pulpit in order to reform the 
world by cultivating onions " (Carlyle). 

As I have corrected and curtailed the inscription, 
it is modest and inoffensive, and " if it does no good 
will not do any harm." 

If you have any account of conversations with the 
present victim, I should be glad to see the report, and 
meantime, my good old trapper, 

I am yours ever, G. R. 

It is unnecessary to say that the inscription 
was not printed as designed, and yet it was true 
in the main. George Ripley was the " father 
of literary criticism in the American press," 



CHARACTERISTICS. 291 

though not, of course, in America. The Amer- 
ican press was not fairly in existence in the 
time of Sparks, Everett, Palfrey, and others 
named in the above letter. There were local 
papers, of wider or narrower influence, and they 
contained, incidentally, valuable literary criti- 
cism. But the empire of a few great journals 
— an empire built upon the basis of cheap post- 
age, and made possible by the accumulation of 
talent and the expenditure of money — was es- 
tablished later. " The Tribune" is barely forty 
years old ; and, previous to its birth, criticism 
of the higher order was confined to magazines 
like " The North American Review " (quarter- 
ly), "The Christian Examiner" (bi-monthly), 
" The Literary Messenger," Arthur's " Home 
Gazette," and two or three others of limited 
circulation. The work of Mr. Ripley was nat- 
urally less ponderously elaborate than the heav- 
ier periodicals required ; it was a combination 
of the scholarly and the popular as yet unat- 
tempted : precisely there lay its originality, and 
original in a very true sense it undoubtedly was. 
Others — Bryant, Raymond, Greeley — did ad- 
mirable service by the way, but the greater por- 
tion of their strength was devoted to political 
discussion. George Ripley gave all his time 
and all his energy to literary criticism, spend- 
ing on it, too, the full resources of a richly fur- 



292 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

nished mind, and infusing into it the spirit of a 
broad and noble training. 

His intellectual temperament aided him in 
bis task. The absence of passion was a great 
advantage. The lack of ardent partisan feeling 
made possible the calm, clear, judicial temper 
so necessary to the critic. The want of what 
maj^ be called the " artistic constitution," which 
delights in music, painting, sculpture, architect- 
ure, did something to insure the equability of 
his poise. His mental force was not wasted by 
emotion or attenuated by distraction. He was 
no dreamer,, no visionary, no enthusiast, no 
creature of imagination or fancy. He was, 
through and through, a critic, gentle but firm, 
intelligent, exact, holding the interests of truth 
paramount to all others, always hoping that the 
interests of truth might be served by the effort 
of careful writers. 

His extreme conscientiousness, amounting to 
fastidiousness, his jealousy of the movement of 
his own mind, his absence of personal ambition, 
his appreciation of intellectual difficulties and 
individual aberrations, his lack of enjoyment in 
the creative process, and his habit of austere 
self-recollection, will help to explain his back- 
wardness in authorship. Not often are author 
and critic united in the same person. The one 
art requires different faculties from the other ; 
at all events, a different direction of the facul- 



CHARACTERIS TICS. 293 

ties. The author's impulse is outward, away 
from the centre, towards a waiting, expectant 
public, desiring to be instructed or entertained. 
The critic's bent is inward, back to the centre, 
away from the public, who are not supposed to 
be interested in his performance. His business 
is to make distinctions, — to analyze, not to 
construct, — and in doing this he must come 
back continually to standards of judgment which 
exist in his own mind. 

That George Ripley was capable of sustain- 
ing himself in a long flight was proved by the 
letters to Andrews Norton, which, together, 
make a respectable volume, and which might 
easily have been extended without change of 
method. The training of Mr. Ripley was in 
the school of compression. As a preacher, his 
art consisted in a due proportion of material to 
space ; in the omission of details and the pres- 
entation of results ; in a skillful process of sum- 
marizing, length being out of the question, and 
expansion forbidden by the first conditions of 
homiletics. As a journalist, he was held to the 
same rigid rules. The habit of saying all that 
was necessary in two or three columns corhpelled 
him to select salient points, to employ the lan- 
guage of suggestion in preference to the lan- 
guage of description, to bring thoughts to a 
head, to pass quickly from one matter to an- 
other, to dwell on no subject till it became tire- 



294 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

some, and to avoid prolixity as the unpardon- 
able sin. By the practice of years this habit 
became imperative. To break through it was 
all but impossible. At all events, the temp- 
tation to break through it lost its charm, and 
the idea of authorship was put aside. Force 
of genius might burst the limits of such re- 
strictions ; love of money or of fame might dis- 
regard them ; but where genius is quiescent, 
and the love of money moderate, and the pas- 
sion for fame cold, the law of repression is im- 
perious, and the mind finds absolute content in 
the work of reporting the conclusions of more 
impulsive intellects. How important is the ser- 
vice rendered by minds thus constituted few can 
appreciate. If faithful to their calling, they 
may raise the entire level of literary perform- 
ance : they will make good work, and only good 
work, possible ; they will put carelessness to 
shame. This was the crowning achievement of 
George Ripley, and this quality in his work 
was appreciated by fine minds, abroad as well 
as at home. Professor Tyndall, for instance, 
through his friend E. L. Youmans, in 1875, sent 
his " special regards" to Dr. Ripley, saying, 
" If I publish another edition of the ' Address,' 
I should almost like to preface it with his arti- 
cle on Martineau. He writes, as he has ever 
written, with the grasp of a philosopher and the 
good taste of a gentleman." 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE END. 

George Ripley inherited a robust constitu- 
tion. His brother Franklin lived to be over 
seventy. His sister Marianne reached about 
the same age. George, younger than either, 
lived longer. His way of life, though labori- 
ous, was even, and, with the exception of a few 
years, cairn. His admirable temper threw off 
the enemies of health, and reduced the perils of 
mental and moral friction to their smallest di- 
mensions. His habits were simple to the verge 
of abstemiousness. Without being ascetic in 
any respect, he had learned how many good 
things he could do without, and be no worse for 
the abstinence. His routine of work was regu- 
lar ; he was not disabled by dyspepsia, languor, 
headache, or heartache ; he was not distracted 
by the vain wish to be somewhere else, or to 
be otherwise employed. To the wear and tear 
of toil he was, of course, exposed ; but the wear 
and tear of toil, when unaided by other cor- 
roding causes, seldom fret life away. He was 
a severe worker, not counting hours, or regard- 



296 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

ing seasons, or taking into account personal 
convenience ; but as he never neglected the 
rules of health, he did not suffer from excessive 
application. He enjoyed his sleep and ate his 
dinner without fear. In his early life he was 
much in the air, took long walks, reveled in 
natural influences. At Brook Farm his exist- 
ence was not allowed to be sedentary. On his 
removal to New York the necessity of travers- 
ing considerable distances between his residence 
and his office supplied the amount of exercise 
he required. He never rode when he could 
walk. Driving was no recreation to him. His 
satisfactions were mental. In his later years 
he became portly, though none too much so for 
his appearance or comfort, and not at all to the 
diminution of his power of work, which con- 
tinued unabated. He would sit all day at his 
table, reading and writing, his industry never 
flagging, his spirits never drooping, his judg- 
ment never clouded ; glad to see the face of a 
friend, and overjoyed at the pleasant humor of 
his young wife, but contented if left alone, 
finding the necessary sources of vitality in his 
own healthy nature. His faculties, undisturbed 
by the moods which render fitful the activities 
of nervous organizations, played with absolute 
smoothness, let the weather be what it might 
be. A constitutional hilarity preserved him 



THE END. 297 

from despondency, and so long as his health re- 
mained essentially unimpaired his intellectual 
activity went on with the evenness of mech- 
anism. 

His eye was fastened on one weak spot. He 
dreaded taking cold. His influenzas were stub- 
born and painful. He often intimated that the 
source of danger was in his chest, and his 
knowledge of physiology kept that danger ever 
before him. Possibly, his precautions were ex- 
cessive. During the last winter preceding his 
decease he did not leave the house, but sat from 
morning till night at his desk, without exercise, 
or the bracing tonic of the outer air. The 
world came to him in the persons of friends and 
in the breezy presence of his wife, who kept 
him informed of the goings-on of the social 
world. For years it had been his custom to 
absent himself from the Tribune Office, and to 
save time by having books sent to him, thus 
increasing his sedentary habit. Still his health 
did not suffer apparently from the confinement, 
though occasionally a premonitory symptom 
kept him in mind of his infirmity. In the win- 
ter of 1879-80 painful symptoms alarmed him; 
but it was not till the spring was far advanced 
that the final attack was made. No care or skill 
availed then to beat it off. It soon became evi- 
dent that he must succumb to the enemy. The 



298 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

last " opinion " sent to the Harpers bears the 
date June 21, 1880, — the subject was a book 
entitled " The Fierce Spirit of Liberty," — and 
the latter half of it was written by Mrs. Ripley. 
The last printed review, that of Horace Bush- 
nelFs Biography, bears date June 18th. That 
this work was done with painful effort is prob- 
able from the circumstance that the last article 
preserved in the scrap-book, where, as a rule, 
his papers were kept, was printed June 5th. 
It is singular that the subject of the notice was 
a volume called " New England Bygones." 
The geniaL spirit of the man enjoyed the theme, 
for he himself was of New England stock ; the 
New England temper animated him ; even the 
New England dishes suited his palate ; his 
memory loved to haunt the scenes of Thanks- 
giving ; he was proud of the New England tra- 
ditions ; something of New England austerity 
clung to his morals ; the New England " en- 
thusiasm for humanity " was part of his consti- 
tution ; his religion preserved the New England 
sobriety and earnestness, though the theological 
intensity was lost. He could feel when he 
could no longer perceive. The grace of resigna- 
tion was born in him, and when the time came 
that he must stop doing and practice patience 
he was ready. 

His final illness was protracted and painful. 



TEE END. 299 

An incessant restlessness possessed him ; dis- 
tress for breath rendered night and day misera- 
ble. No medical skill, no loving devotion, gave 
relief. In the moments when suffering permit- 
ted he was fully himself ; affectionate, loyal to 
the best faith of his earlier time, glad to see his 
friends, more than glad to see those who re- 
vived in him the recollection of his heroic days. 
The nature of his disease forbade his saying 
much ; but what he did say out of a clear mind 
was quite worthy of himself. After he aban- 
doned the religious beliefs of his youth he never 
returned to them, never deplored their absence, 
though a copy of the hymns of Dr. Watts lay on 
his study table for use. He loved life, but had 
no dread of death. He feared pain, but knew 
how to bear it. He clung to his friends, and his 
friends did not forsake him. He depended on 
the care of his wife, and it was lavished on him 
to the last. In his closing hours he called for 
no other support from without. He died on the 
4th of July, 1880. The news of his death 
reached many before the news of his sickness, 
for his daily existence had long been unevent- 
ful, and only those nearest to him were at all 
aware of his condition. The distress incidental 
to a recumbent position made his bed unwel- 
come. Even when mortally ill he preferred a 
sitting posture ; and this conveyed an idea that 



300 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

he was stronger than he really was. He died 
in his writing-room, in his chair, — at his post 
of duty to the very end. 

Though his position in the world of litera- 
ture had long been acknowledged, his decease 
brought it freshly to men's minds. From one 
end of the country to the other the tributes to 
his enlightened capacity, to his distinguished 
knowledge, to his eminent skill as a discerner 
of thoughts, came in. Editors, writers of every 
class, critics of diverse schools, confessed his 
power, and celebrated the service he had ren- 
dered to American literature. There was no 
dissentient voice. His was felt to be a general 
loss. In the absence of his own pastor (the son 
of a cordial friend of his youth) a comparative 
stranger spoke the last words at his funeral, 
making amends for lack of intimacy by warmth 
of expression ; thus doing justice to one aspect 
of him which was little understood, the hearty 
human sympathy there was in him. 

A great concourse of people attended the ob- 
sequies. Distinguished men, divines, critics, 
scholars, editors, architects, scientists, journal- 
ists, publicists, men of affairs, artists, were in 
the assembly. The pall-bearers were the Pres- 
ident of Columbia College; the Editor of M Har- 
per's Weekly ; " the representative of the great 
publishing house he had served so many years ; 



THE EXD. 301 

an Italian professor and man of letters ; the 
Editor of " The Popular Science Monthly ; " 
the Editor of " The New York Observer ; " a 
distinguished college professor ; an eminent Ger- 
man lawyer ; a popular poet ; and the Editor of 
M The Tribune," whose cordial, faithful friend 
he had ever been. These nobly represented the 
many-sided sympathies and universal relations 
of the man. They were at once personal inti- 
mates, professional allies, and intellectual neigh- 
bors ; uniting love for the individual with admi- 
ration for the writer. If George Bancroft and 
Parke Godwin had been present, not as distin- 
guished men of letters, but as old comrades, — 
the former a close temporal and spiritual friend, 
the latter a brother in the early projects for 
an associated humanity, — the representation 
would have been perfect : a Unitarian minister 
officiating, organized humanity paying its trib- 
ute, the broad spirit of modern literature offer- 
ing its praise, private affection revealing its 
sense of bereavement. He was buried at Wood- 
lawn Cemetery, in New York, where a granite 
monument marks his resting place. 

Rev. William Henry Channing, of London, 
an old comrade and intimate friend of George 
Ripley, would have prepared for this memoir a 
full report of his life and a judgment of his 
character, had pressing engagements permitted. 



302 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

Circumstances forbade his doing more than 
write a regretful letter, an extract wherefrom 
will indicate the spirit in which the tribute 
would have been offered. It is hardly neces- 
sary to add that all who knew well the subject 
of this biography will render the same testi- 
mony to a man they loved as cordially as they 
admired him. 

Campden House Road, Kensington, London, 

Monday, April 7, 1882. 

Your disappointment cannot at all equal mine, at 
my inability to send the promised sketch of our hon- 
ored compeer, George Ripley. But the ever-widen- 
ing claims of reform movements, committees, corre- 
spondence, etc., etc., have prevented during the whole 
season ; and when, at last, a period of leisure came, 
my health again broke down, compelling rest. 

The more the subject has been thought over, and 
long-buried memories of our dear friend reappear, 
the wider and richer the theme opens. And it 
would need many pages to present the least ade- 
quate portraits of George Ripley as a Christian min- 
ister, a scholar, an expounder of philosophy, a so- 
cial reorganizer, a literary critic, an encyclopaedist, 
a friend, and a man. To me, in reviewing his di 
versified, yet consistent, progressive, and ascending 
career, he takes a front rank among the many leaders 
of thought whom it has been my rare privilege to 
know, in our own republic and in Europe. 

Especially would it gratify me to bear my testi- 



THE END. 303 

mony to the generous and quite heroic spirit, where- 
by he and his great-souled wife were impelled to 
organize Brook Farm ; and to the wise sagacity, ge- 
nial good-heartedness, friendly sympathy, patience, 
persistency, and ideal hopefulness with which they 
energetically helped to carry out that romantic enter- 
prise to the end. They consulted with me from first 
to last, and opened their confidence as they did to 
very few ; for they knew how warmly and uncompro- 
misingly my conscience, judgment, enthusiastic antic- 
ipations of a purer, freer, more beautifully ordered, 
and deeply religious form of society, responded to 
their own. For years my reiterated and urgent en- 
treaty was that he should write out his " Record " of 
that brave experiment, but he constantly refused. 
And to my last appeal, made during an interview, 
in the summer of 1880, our final meeting here be- 
low, in answer to the question, " When will you tell 
that story, as you alone can tell it ? " he replied, with 
eyes twinkling merrily and his rotund form shaking 
with laughter, " Whenever I reach my years of in- 
discretion ! " And at the close of our prolonged talk 
he looked at me affectionately, and said, " But for 
your uncle William's encouragement I never should 
have undertaken Brook Farm ; and but for your un- 
wavering good-cheer I never should have carried on 
the attempt so long." 

It is not claimed that George Ripley was a 
man of genius, the peer of Irving, Prescott, 
Motley, Bancroft, Bryant, Emerson, Channing, 



304 GEORGE RIPLEY. 

or any of the men who have made the age illus- 
trious at home or abroad. It is not claimed 
that he was a profound scholar, an original 
thinker, even in his favorite department of phi- 
losophy, nor yet an accomplished man, in the 
usual sense of the word. But it is claimed that 
he possessed the literary spirit in a remarkable 
degree ; that his mind was singularly calm, 
even, capacious, and exact ; that he was a man 
of rare intelligence and master of a pure style 
of English. It is claimed that he put his whole 
life into the work of interpreting ideas to men, 
infusing into letters the earnestness and the 
sweetness of character. It is claimed that with 
him literature was a high calling, on a line with 
the ministry, which he abandoned, or the career 
of a reformer, which he undertook at Brook 
Farm. One spirit animated all his performance 
from beginning to end. The forms of his ac- 
tivity changed ; his hope and purpose continued 
unfaltering to the last. Whether preaching, 
administering, writing, making a Cyclopaedia, 
or reviewing books, he had one end in view, — 
the enlightenment and elevation of mankind. 

The following lines, applied to Sir William 
Hamilton in his library, found among George 
Ripley's papers, in his own handwriting, partly 
express the man : — 



THE END. 305 

My days among the dead are past ; 

Around me I behold, 
Where'er these casual eyes are cast, 

The mighty minds of old. 
My never-failing friends are they 
With whom I converse day by day. 

My hopes are with the dead ; anon 

My place with them will be, 
And I with them shall travel on 

Through all futurity ; 
Yet leaving here a name, I trust, 
That will not perish in the dust. 

In his old college Commonplace Book, under 
date December 5, 1825, he wrote an extract 
and comment as follows: Ui A morning of ardor 
and of hope ; a day of clouds and storms ; an 
evening of gloom closed in by premature dark- 
ness : such is the melancholy sum of what the 
biography of Men of Letters almost uniformly 
presents.' Is this true ? " 

20 



APPENDIX. 



The following letters, which came too late to be in- 
serted in the proper place, are interesting as throw- 
ing light on Mr. Ripley's purposes, and as showing 
how his scheme was regarded by a sympathetic and 
singularly discerning mind. Mr. Emerson's attitude 
towards Brook Farm illustrates well his peculiar 
genius : — 

Boston, November 9, 1840. 

My dear Sir, — Our conversation in Concord 
was of such a general nature, that I do not feel as if 
you were in complete possession of the idea of the 
Association which I wish to see established. As 
we have now a prospect of carrying it into effect, 
at an early period, I wish to submit the plan more 
distinctly to your judgment, that you may decide 
whether it is one that can have the benefit of your 
aid and cooperation. 

Our objects, as you know, are to insure a more 
natural union between intellectual and manual labor 
than now exists ; to combine the thinker and the 
worker, as far as possible, in the same individual ; to 
guarantee the highest mental freedom, by providing 
all with labor, adapted to their tastes and talents, and 



308 APPENDIX, 

securing to them the fruits of their industry ; to do 
away the necessity of menial services, by opening the 
benefits of education and the profits of labor to all ; 
and thus to prepare a society of liberal, intelligent, 
and cultivated persons, whose relations with each 
other would permit a more simple and wholesome 
life, than can be led amidst the pressure of our com- 
petitive institutions. 

To accomplish these objects, we propose to take a 
small tract of land, which, under skillful husbandry, 
uniting the garden and the farm, will be adequate to 
the subsistence of the families ; and to connect with 
this a school or college, in which the most complete 
instruction shall be given, from the first rudiments to 
the highest culture. Our farm would be a place for 
improving the race of men that lived on it ; thought 
would preside over the operations of labor, and labor 
would contribute to the expansion of thought ; we 
should have industry without drudgery, and true 
equality without its vulgarity. 

An offer has been made to us of a beautiful estate, 
on very reasonable terms, on the borders of Newton, 
West Roxbury, and Dedham. I am very familiar 
with the premises, having resided on them a part of 
last summer, and we might search the country in vain 
for anything more eligible. Our proposal now is for 
three or four families to take possession on the first 
of April next, to attend to the cultivation of the farm 
and the erection of buildings, to prepare for the com- 
ing of as many more in the autumn, and thus to com- 
mence the institution in the simplest manner, and 



APPENDIX. 309 

with the smallest number, with which it can go into 
operation at all. It would thus be not less than two 
or three years, before we should be joined by all who 
mean to be with us ; we should not fall to pieces by 
our own weight ; we should grow up slowly and 
strong ; and the attractiveness of our experiment 
would win to us all whose society we should want. 

The step now to be taken at once is the procuring 
of funds for the necessary capital. According to the 
present modification of our plan, a much less sum will 
be required than that spoken of in our discussions 
at Concord. We thought then $50,000 would be 
needed ; I find now, after a careful estimate, that 
$30,000 will purchase the estate and buildings for 
ten families, and give the required surplus for carry- 
ing on the operations for one year. 

We propose to raise this sum by a subscription to 
a joint stock company, among the friends of the in- 
stitution, the payment of a fixed interest being guar- 
anteed to the subscribers, and the subscription itself 
secured by the real estate. No man then will be in 
danger of losing ; he will receive as fair an interest 
as he would from any investment, while at the same 
time he is contributing towards an institution, in 
which while the true use of money is retained, its 
abuses are done away. The sum required cannot 
come from rich capitalists ; their instinct would pro- 
test against such an application of their coins ; it 
must be obtained from those who sympathize with 
our ideas, and who are willing to aid their realization 
with their money, if not by their personal coopera- 



310 APPENDIX. 

tion. There are some of this description on whom I 
think we can rely ; among ourselves we can produce 
perhaps $10,000; the remainder must be subscribed 
for by those who wish us well, whether they mean to 
unite with us or not. 

I can imagine no plan which is suited to carry into 
effect so many divine ideas as this. If wisely exe- 
cuted, it will be a light over this country and this age. 
If not the sunrise, it will be the morning star. As a 
practical man, I see clearly that we must have some 
such arrangement, or all changes less radical will be 
nugatory. I believe in the divinity of labor ; I wish 
to " harvest my flesh and blood from the land ; " but 
to do this, I must either be insulated and work to 
disadvantage, or avail myself of the services of hire- 
lings, who are not of my order, and whom I can 
scarce make friends ; for I must have another to 
drive the plough, which I hold. I cannot empty a 
cask of lime upon my grass alone. I wish to see a 
society of educated friends, working, thinking, and 
living together, with no strife, except that of each to 
contribute the most to the benefit of all. 

Personally, my tastes and habits would lead me in 
another direction. I have a passion for being inde- 
pendent of the world, and of every man in it. This 
I could do easily on the estate which is now offered, 
and which I could rent at a rate, that with my other 
resources, would place me in a very agreeable condi- 
tion, as far as my personal interests were involved. 
I should have a city of God, on a small scale of my 
own ; and please God, I should hope one day to 



APPENDIX. 311 

drive my own cart to market and sell greens. But I 
feel bound to sacrifice this private feeling, in the hope 
of a great social good. I shall be anxious to hear 
from you. Your decision will do much towards set- 
tling the question with me, whether the time has 
come for the fulfillment of a high hope, or whether 
the work belongs to a future generation. All omens 
now are favorable ; a singular union of diverse tal- 
ents is ready for the enterprise ; everything indicates 
that we ought to arise and build ; and if we let slip 
this occasion, the unsleeping Nemesis will deprive us 
of the boon we seek. For myself, I am sure that I 
can never give so much thought to it again ; my 
mind must act on other objects, and I shall acquiesce 
in the course of fate, with grief that so fair a light is 
put out. A small pittance of the wealth which has 
been thrown away on ignoble objects, during this wild 
contest for political supremacy, would lay the corner- 
stone of a house, which would ere long become the 
desire of nations. 

I almost forgot to say that our friends, the " Prac- 
tical Christians," insist on making their u Standard," 
— a written document, — a prescribed test. Tim 
cuts them off. Perhaps we are better without them. 
They are good men ; they have salt, which we 
needed with our spice ; but we might have proved 
too liberal, too comprehensive, too much attached to 
the graces of culture, to suit their ideas. Instead of 
them, we have the offer of ten or twelve u Practical 
Men," from ^Ir. S. G. May, who himself is deeply in- 
terested in the proposal, and would like one day to 



312 APPENDIX. 

share in its concerns. Pray write me with as much 
frankness as I have used towards you, and believe me 
ever your friend and faithful servant, 

George Ripley. 

P. S. I ought to add, that in the present stage 
of the enterprise no proposal is considered as binding. 
We wish only to know what can probably be relied 
on, provided always, that no pledge will be accepted 
until the articles of association are agreed on by all 
parties. 

I recollect you said that if you were sure of com- 
peers of the right stamp you might embark yourself 
in the adventure : as to this, let me suggest the in- 
quiry, whether our Association should not be com- 
posed of various classes of men ? If we have friends 
whom we love and who love us, I think we should be 
content to join with others, with whom our personal 
sympathy is not strong, but whose general ideas co- 
incide with ours, and whose gifts and abilities would 
make their services important. For instance, I 
should like to have a good washerwoman in my par- 
ish admitted into the plot. She is certainly not a 
Minerva or a Venus ; but we might educate her two 
children to wisdom and varied accomplishments, who 
otherwise will be doomed to drudge through life. 
The same is true of some farmers and mechanics, 
whom we should like with us. 

Brook Farm, December 17, 1841. 
My dear Sir, — I feel so sure of your sympathy 
in the ideas which our little company are trying to 



APPENDIX. 313 

illustrate, that I do not hesitate to bespeak your at- 
tention to our prospects. 

We are now in full operation as a family of work- 
ers, teachers, and students ; we feel the deepest in- 
ward convictions that for us our mode of life is the 
true one, and no attraction would tempt any one of 
us to exchange it for that which we have quitted 
lately. A rare Providence seems to have smiled on 
us in the materials which have been drawn together 
on this spot ; and so many powers are at work with 
us and for us, that I cannot doubt we are destined to 
succeed in giving visible expression to some of the 
laws of social life, that as yet have been kept in the 
background. 

We are all of us here full of joy and hope ; we 
have overcome great obstacles ; our foundation, I 
trust, is wisely laid. We seem to have every ele- 
ment of success, except the hindrances that arise 
from our poverty. Some of our friends have put us 
in possession of the means of owning the estate we 
live on ; and our personal resources are sufficient, 
when available, for the immediate improvements we 
contemplate. Still, without larger means than are 
now at our command, we must labor to great disad- 
vantage, and perhaps retard and seriously injure our 
enterprise. Our farming, in a pecuniary view, has 
been successful. It has realized ten per cent, net 
gain on the value of the estate, which I believe is Mr. 
Phinney's mark ; and our income is somewhat more 
than our current expenses. But we are called on for 
outlays, for absolutely necessary accommodations, 



314 APPENDIX. 

which, though conducted with a Spartan economy, 
exhaust our available funds, and leave us too re- 
stricted for successful operation. 

Our resource, in this case, is to request some of 
those who have faith in us and in our enterprise, not 
to endow us, or to portion us, but to invest in our 
stock such sums as they can temporarily part with, 
and receive therefor a just equivalent. Our shares 
are $500 each ; they are guaranteed five per cent, in- 
terest, and may be withdrawn at the pleasure of the 
subscribers, on giving three months' notice. I have 
no doubt that an investment would be equally safe, if 
not equally lucrative, as in any joint-stock company 
in the Commonwealth, besides essentially aiding in 
the establishment of an institution, which is believed 
to contain the seeds of future good to men. 

If my confessions should prompt you to seek the 
ownership of one or more of our shares, I need not 
say that we should be gratified and greatly forwarded 
in this the time of our infant struggle and hope ; but 
if you have any cause to do otherwise, I am sure that 
you will be no less frank than I have been, and re- 
gard this request as if it had never been made. 

Your young friend Frank Brown is very well and 
I hope will do well. Ever yours sincerely, 

George Ripley. 

Mr. Emerson's reply is without date, and is ap- 
parently an unfinished sketch : — 

My dear Sir, — It is quite time I made an an- 
swer to your proposition that I should venture into 



APPENDIX. 315 

your new community. The design appears to me 
noble and generous, proceeding, as I plainly see, 
from nothing covert, or selfish, or ambitious, but 
from a manly and expanding heart and mind. So it 
makes aU men its friends and debtors. It becomes 
a matter of conscience to entertain it in a friendly 
spirit, and examine what it has for us. 

I have decided not to join it, and yet very slowly 
and I may almost say with penitence. I am greatly 
relieved by learning that your coadjutors are now 
so many that you will no longer attach that impor- 
tance to the defection of individuals which, you hinted 
in your letter to me, I or others might possess, — the 
painful power I mean of preventing the execution of 
the plan. 

My feeling is that the community is not good for 
me, that it has little to offer me, which, with resolu- 
tion I cannot procure for myself ; that it would not 
be worth my while to make the difficult exchange of 
my property in Concord for a share in the new house- 
hold. I am in many respects placed as I wish to be, 
in an agreeable neighborhood, in a town which I have 
some reason to love, and which has respected my 
freedom so far that I have reason to hope it will in- 
dulge me further when I demand it. I cannot ac- 
cuse my townsmen or my neighbors of my domestic 
grievances, only my own sloth and conformity. It 
seems to me a circuitous and operose way of reliev- 
ing myself to put upon your community the emanci- 
pation which I ought to take on myself. I must as- 
sume my own vows. 



316 APPENDIX. 

The institution of domestic hired service is to me 
very disagreeable. I should like to come one step 
nearer to nature than this usage permits. But surely 
I need not sell my house and remove my family to 
Newton in order to make the experiment of labor and 
self help. I am already in the act of trying some 
domestic and social experiments which would gain 
nothing. 

I ought to say that I do not put much trust in any 
arrangements or combinations, only in the spirit 
which dictates them. Is that benevolent and divine, 
they will answer their end. Is there any alloy in 
that, it will certainly appear in the result. 

I have the same answer to make to the proposition 
of the school. According to my ability and accord- 
ing to your's, you and I do now keep school for all 
comers, and the energy of our thought and of our will 
measures our influence. 

I do not think I should gain anything, I, who have 
little skill to converse with people, by a plan of so 
many parts, and which I comprehend so slowly and 
bluntly. 

I almost shudder to make any statement of my ob- 
jections to our ways of living, because I see how 
slowly I shall mend them. My own health and hab- 
its of living and those of my wife and my mother are 
not of that robustness that should give any pledge of 
enterprise and ability in reform. Nor can I insist 
with any heat on new methods when I am at work 
in my study on any literary composition. Yet I 
think that all I shall solidly do, I must do alone, and 



APPENDIX, 317 

I am so ignorant and uncertain in my improvements 
that I would fain hide my attempts and failures in 
solitude where they shall perplex none or very few 
beside myself. The result of our secretest attempts 
will certainly have as much renown as shall be due 
to it. 

I do not look on myself as a valuable member to 
any community which is not either very large or very 
small and select* I fear that your's would not find 
me as profitable and pleasant an associate as I should 
wish to be, and as so important a project seems im- 
peratively to require in all its constituents. 

Mr. Edmund Hosmer, a very intelligent farmer 
and a very upright man in my neighborhood, to whom 
I read your letter, admired the spirit of the plan but 
distrusted all I told him of the details as far as they 
concerned the farm. 

1. He said, as a general rule nothing was gained 
by cooperation in a farm, except in those few pieces 
of work which cannot be done alone, like getting in 
a load of hay, which takes three men. In every 
other case, it is better to separate the workmen. His 
own boys (all good boys) work better separately than 
with him. 

2. He thought Mr. "Ripley should put no depend- 
ence on the results of gentlemen farmers such as Mr. 

P and others who were named. If his (Mr. 

Hosmer's) farm had been managed in the way of 

Mr. P 's, it would have put himself and family 

in the poor-house long ago. If Mr. P 's farm 

should be exhibited in an accurate account of debt 



318 APPENDIX. 

and credit from his beginning until now, it would 
probably show a great deficit. Another considera- 
tion : The gentlemen farmers are obliged to conduct 
their operations by means of a foreman whom they 
choose because he has skill to make ends meet, and 
sell the produce without any scrupulous inquiry on 
the part of the employer as to his methods. That 
foreman buys cheap and sells dear, in a manner 
which Mr. Ripley and his coadjutors will not sanc- 
tion. The same thing is true of many farmers, 
whose praise is in the agricultural reports. If they 
were honest there would be no brilliant results. And 
Mr. Hosmer is sure that no large property can ever 
be made by honest farming. 

3. Mr. Hosmer thinks the equal payment of ten 
cents per hour to every laborer unjust. One man 
brings capital to the community and receives his in- 
terest. He has little skill to labor. A farmer also 
comes who has no capital but can do twice as much 
as Mr. Hosmer in a day. His skill is his capital. 
It would be unjust to pay him no interest on that. 

4. Mr. Hosmer disbelieves that good work will 
continue to be done for the community if the worker 
is not directly benefited. His boys receive a cent a 
basket for the potatoes they bring in, and that makes 
them work, though they know very well that the 
whole produce of the farm is for them. 



INDEX. 



Alcott, A. B., 54, 129 

Alps, 246, 243. 
American Literature, 213. 
Andover Theological Seminary, 18. 
Arnold, Edwin, 227. 
Arnold, M., 285. 

41 Atlantic Monthly " (Magazine), 
150, 151. 

Baden-Baden, 258, 262. 

Bancroft, George, 212, 262, 282, 301. 

Barrett, Samuel, 41. 

Bartol, C A., 54. 

Blanc, Louis, 260 

Books vs. Barbarism, 274. 

Boston, Mem. History of, 281. 

Bradford, George P. , 127. 

Brisbane, Albert, 175, 176, 181. 

Brook Farm, Antecedents, 109; 
articles of association, 112 ; offi- 
cers, 115 : site, 117 : theory, 118 ; 
spirit of, 119-122, 303 ; account of 
in •' Dial,'* 122 ; 0. A. Brownson's 
account of, 121 ; teaching at, 127 ; 
work, 128 ; school, 128 ; numbers, 
128, 156 ; music, 129 ; visitors, 129 ; 
applications, 130 ; amusements, 
149 ; manners, 150; literature of, 

152 ; C. A. Dana's account of, 

153 : reminiscences of, 154 ; daily 
life, 155 ; trades, 157 ; finances, 
157, 183 ; Fourierism, 167, 175 ; 
causes of failure, 187, 194. 

Brooks, C. T.,97. 
Brown, Solyman, 175. 
Brownson, 0. A., 54, 120, 129. 
Brvant, \V. C, 280. 
Biichner's " Man,- 230. 
Buckminster, Rev. Mr., 28, 274. 
Buddha, Gautama, 227. 

Cabot, J. E.,281. 
Carlyle, T. (quoted), 290. 



Channing, W. E., 13, 28, 31,41, 42. 

51, 110, 118, 232, 282, 302. 
Channing, W. II., 97, 129, 154, 166, 

175, 17/, 301. 
Clarke, J. F., 54, 97. 
Codman, J. T., 151. 
Coolidge, J. I. T., 92. 
Council, Oecumenical, 264. 
Cowper, William, 12. 
Crancb, C. P., 129, 176, 177. 
Criticism in America, 290. 
Curtis, G. W., 176, 177 
Cyclopaedia , 218-223. 

Dana, C. A., 115, 127, 153, 154, 164, 

173, 175, 176, 177, 178. 
Dewey, Orville, 96. 
De Wette, 98, 102. 
" Dial, The,'' 105, 106, 122, 167. 
"Disciple, Christian, The," 13, 27, 

28. 
Dorr, Thomas, 10, 19. 
D wight, J.S., 53, 97, 127, 177. 

Ellis, G. E., 56. 

Emerson, R. W., 54, 56, 58, 98, 129, 

257, 266, et seq. 
Emerson, William, 20. 
Everett, Edward, 9. 
** Examiner, Christian, The," 94. 

Felton, C. C, 97. 
Feuerbach, 2&J. 
Fichte, J. G., 96. 
Florence, 263. 

Fourier, Charles, 167, 174, 181. 
Francis, Convers, 54. 
Frothingham, N. L., 41. 
Fuller, Margaret, 54, 97, 129. 

Gannett, E. S., 3, 28, 38, 41. 
Godwin, Parke, 174, 175, 176, 177. 
248,301 



320 



INDEX. 



Greeley, Horace, 175, 176, 212, 214, 

275. 
Greenfield, 2, 3, 7, 13, 26, 238, 240, 

245, 252. 
Greenwood, F. W. P., 41 

" Harbinger, The," 176, 177, 185, 

195. 
Harpers, 298. 

" Harper's Monthly Magazine," 215. 
Harvard College, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11. 
Hawthorne, N., 115, 149, 153. 
Hedge, F.H., 54, 96, 281. 
Heine, H. 213. 
Higginson, T. W., 176, 177. 
Holmes, 0. W., 280. 
Horner, Mr. and Mrs., 252, 255 
Hosmer, G. W.,92. 
Humboldt Festival, 262. 

"Independent, The," 255. 
Infidelity, latest form of, 98. 
Institute, National, the, ZV3» 

Jews at Rome, 265. 
Jowett, Benjamin, 259. 

Kant, Immanuel, 96 
Kay, A., 194. 
Kimball, 252, 257. 
Kirkland, Samuel, 38. 

Lewes, G. H., 287. 

Liberal Christianity in the West, 

252, 254. 
Literature, American, 213. 
" Literature and Dogma," 285. 
Livermore, A. A., 96. 
Locke, John, 13. 
London, 260. 
Lowell, Charles, 38, 41. 
Lowell, J. R., 176, 177. 
Lunt, W. P., 19. 

Magazine, 291. 
Mallock, W. H.,227, 230. 
Martineau, James, 95, 110. 
Milan, 250, 263. 
Miller, Joaquin, 285. 
Miscellanies, Philosophical, 97. 
Mott, M. J., 41. 

New York, 251, 254, 256, 272. 

Nordhoff, Charles, 130. 

Norton Andrews, 22, 54, 96, 98, 102, 

104, 105. 
Noyes's ' 'American Socialisms," 152. 

" Old and New " (Magazine), 151. 
Osgood, Samuel, 97. 



Palfrey, J. G., 41. 

Palisse, J. M., 194. 

Parker, Theodore, 3; 53, 55, 56, 100. 
Ill, 119, 129, 164, 194, 203, 229 
257. ' 

Parkman, John, 3. 

Peabody, A. P., 96. 

Peabody, E. P., 55, 167, 233. 

Peirce, John, 41. 

Penn Club, 278. 

Phalanstery, the, 189. 

Phalanx, the, 167. 176. 

Pickering, John, 30. 

Pickering, Timothy, 30. 

Pierpont, John, 41. 

Pratt, Minot, 115, 164, 173. 

"Present, The," 166. 

Press American, The, 291. 

" Putnam's Magazine," 212. 

Rebellion (College), 10, 16. 

11 Register, Christian, The," 94, 197. 

Reid, W., 301. 

Ripley, Augusta L., 243, 254, 255, 
296, 299, 301. 

Ripley, Carmela, 247, 250, 251, 252. 
256 

Ripley, Franklin, 1, 237, 295. 

Ripley, George. Birth, 1 ; school, 6, 
7 ; college, 8, 9 ; teaching 14, 15, 
16 ; divinity school, 20, 21 ; settle- 
ment, 39 ; marriage, 41 ; personal 
appearance, 45; preaching, 47, 
53 ; Transcendental club, 55 ; min- 
istry, 61, et seq. ; "Discourses," 
97 ; " Specimens of Foreign Stand- 
ard Literature," 97; controversy, 
100 ; " Dial, The/' 105, 106 ; Brook 
Farm, 108, et. seq.; Brownson's 
description of , 121 ; idea of Brook 
Farm, 127, 175 ; occupations 
there, 127; letters on, 143, 147; 
" Harbinger, The," 176, 185 ; char- 
acter, 151. 164, 165, 192,236, 292, 
302 ; faith in association, 193, 272, 
273 ; sells his library, 195 ; moves 
to Flatbush, L. I., 195 ; early work 
on " The Tribune,'' 195, 200, 202 ; 
verses, 197 ; after Brook Farm, 199 ; 
literature, 201 ; removes to New 
York, 202 ; literary work, 202, 206, 
211 ; earnings, 203 ; humanity, 
208 ; literary spirit, 210, 286, 287 ; 
"Harper's Magazine," 215, 216; 
Cyclopaedia, 218 ; " Books and 
Men," 224 ; New York conven- 
tion, 174 ; the man of letters, 226, 
244, 259, 283 ; religious faith, 227, 
231, 235, 242, 258, 2b7 276, 298, 
299 ; death of his wife, 239 ; Eu- 



1XDEX. 



321 



rope, 246, 257, 258 ; kindness, 256 ; 
act: philosophv. 

D., 277 , industrv, 2^5, 
261, 272, 284: love of truti, 
the critic, 2S7, 292 : ruodes- 
lit-rarv qualities, 2S5, 286, 28S 
292, 296: aims, 294: training. 
293 : habits. 296, 297 

. . 
funeral, 30); tribute- 

Riplev, Jerome. 2. 

Riple'v, Marianne, 1, 115. 2^ 

Riplev, Sophia W., 110, 127, 128, 

164', 165, 195, 199, 236-239. 
Robinson, John P., 19. 
Robinson. Mrs. (Talvi), 249. 
u Romance, Blithedale,'* 153 
Rome, 264 

.. George R., 194. 
Rykman, 1:6. 

George, 213. 
Schelling, 96. 

.ermacher, 229. 
Semler. " Geschichte der Social- 

ismus." 152. 
Semmering Pass, 263. 
Sensationalism. 98. 
Smith, Gerri: 
Socialism, 272. 273. 
Spencer, Herbert, 2S7. 
Spin 
Spiritualism, 22S. 



| Stearns. Samuel H , 19. 
:i. C, 41. 

Stone, T. T , 55. 
1 Story, W. W., 176, 177. 

Sumner, Charles, 214. 

Swedenborg, 119 
i Switzerland. 24S. 

Taylor. Bayard, 212, 279. 
Thatcher. 28. 
Thaver. A. if., 263. 

Tourgee, A. W 

Transcendentalism, 48, 54, 55, ?4, 

103. 
" Tribune, The,'' 255, 274, 277. 284 

291. 
Trieste. 263 
Tyndall, John, 294. 

Umtarianism. 42. 
Upham, C W.,29, 30. 

Walker, James, 41, 44, 96, 129. 
Walsh, Mike, 130 

War. Franco-Prussian, 272. 
Ware, Henry, 22. 38. 
Ware, Henrv^ Jr., 41 
White. D. A. 
Whittier, J. G., 176. 177. 
Williams, Roger, 213. 

Yale College, 5. 
Youmans, £. L., 294. 
Young, Alexander, 26, 38, 41. 



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Library Edition. Portrait and 32 illustrations. 8vo, 14.00. 
Pjose Works. Cambridge Edition. 2 vols. cr. 8vo, $4.50. 
Hyperion. A Romance. i6mo, $1.50. 
Outre-Mer. i6mo, $1.50. 
Kavanagh. i6mo, $1.50. 

Christus. Household Edition, $2.00 ; Diamond Edition, $1.00. 
Translation of the Divina Commedia of Dante. 3 vols. 

royal 8vo, $13.50 ; cr. 8vo, $6.00 ; 1 vol. cr. 8vo, $3.00. .. 
Poets and Poetry of Europe. Roval 8vo, $5.00. 



Standard and Popular Library Books, u 
James Russell Lowell. 

Poems. Red-Line Ed. 16 illustrations and Portrait. $2. 50. 

Household Edition. Portrait. i2mo, $2.00. 

Library Edition. Portrait and 32 illustrations. 8vo, $4.00. 

Fireside Travels. i6mo, $1.50. 

Among my Books. i2mo, $2.00. 

Among my Books. Second Series. i2mo, #2.00. 

My Study Windows. i2mo, $2.00. 

T. B. Macaulay. 

England. New Riverside Edition. 4 vols., cloth, $5.00. 
Essays. Portrait. New Riverside Edition. 3 vols., $375. 
Speeches and Poems. New Riverside Ed. 1 vol., $ 1.25. 

Harriet Martineau. 

Autobiography. Portraits and illustrations. 2 vols. 8vo t 

#6.00. 
Household Education. i8mo, $1.25. 

Edwin D. Mead. 

Philosophy of Carlyle. i6mo, $1.00. 

Owen Meredith. 

Poems. Household Edition. Illustrated. i2mo, $2.00. 
Library Edition. Portrait and 32 illustrations. 8vo, $4.00* 
Shawm tit Edition. $ 1 . 50. 

Lucile. Red-Line Edition. 8 illustrations. $2.50. 
Diamond Edition. 8 illustrations, $1.00. 

Michael de Montaigne. 

Complete Works. Portrait. 4 vols, crown 8vo, $7.50. 

E. Mulford. 

The Nation. 8vo, $2.50. 

The Republic of God. 8vo, $2.00. 

D. M. Mulock. 

Thirty Years. Poems. 1 vol. i6mo, $1.50. 

T. T. Munger. 

On the Threshold. i6mo, gilt top, $1.00. 

J. A. W. Neander. 

History of the Christian Religion and Church, with Index 
volume, 6 vols. 8vo, $ 20.00 ; Index alone, #3.00. 



12 Houghton, Mifflin and Company's 
C E. Norton. 

Notes of Travel and Study in Italy. i6mo, $1.25. 
Translation of Dante's New Life. Royal 8vo, $3.00. 

Francis W. Palfrey. 

Memoir of William Francis Bartlett. Portrait. l6m<\ 

$1.50. 

James Parton. 

Life of Benjamin Franklin. 2 vols. 8vo, $4.00. 
Life of Thomas Jefferson. 8vo, $2.00. 
Life of Aaron Burr. 2 vols. 8vo, $4.00. 
Life of Andrew Jackson. 3 vols. 8vo, $6.00. 
Life of Horace Greeley. 8vo, $2.00. 
Humorous Poetry of the English Language. 8vo, $2.00. 
Famous Americans of Recent Times. 8vo, $2.00. 
Life of Voltaire. 2 vols. 8vo, $6 00. 

The French Parnassus. Household Edition, i2mo, $2.00, 
Holiday Edition. Crown 8vo, $3.50. 

Blaise Pascal. 

Thoughts, Letters, and Opuscules. Crown 8vo, $2.25. 
Provincial Letters. Crown 8vo, $2.25. 

Charles C. Perkins. 

Raphael and Michael Angelo. 8vo, $5.00. 

E. S. Phelps. 

The Gates Ajar. i6mo, $1.50. 

Men, Women, and Ghosts. i6mo, $1.50. 

Hedged In. i6mo, $1.50. 

The Silent Partner. i6mo, $1.50. 

The Story of Avis. i6mo, $1.50. 

Sealed Orders, and other Stories. i6mo, $1.50. 

Friends : A Duet. i6mo, $1.25. 

Poetic Studies. Square i6mo, $1.50. 

Adelaide A. Procter. 

Poems. Diamond Edition. $1.00. 

Red- Line Edition. Portrait and 16 illustrations. %2.yx 

Favorite Edition. Illustrated. l6mo, $ 1. 50. 



Standard and Popular Library Books. 13 
Henry Crabb Robinson. 

Diary. Crown 8vo, $2.50. 

A. P. Russell. 

Library Notes. i2mo, $2.00. 

John G. Saxe. 

Works. Portrait. i6mo, $2.25. 
Highgate Edition. i6mo, $1.50. 

Sir Walter Scott. 

Waverley Novels. Illustrated Library Edition. In 25 vol*. 

cr. 8vo, each $1.00 ; the set, $25.00. 
Globe Edition. 13 vols. 100 illustrations, $16.25. 

(Sold only in sets.) 
Tales of a Grandfather. Library Edition. 3 vols. $4.50. 

Horace E. Scudder. 

The Bodley Books. 5 vols. Each, $1.50. 

The Dwellers in Five-Sisters' Court. i6mo, $1.25. 

Stories and Romances. $1.25. 

Dream Children. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.00. 

Seven Little People. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.00. 

Stories from my Attic. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.00. 

The Children's Book. 4to, 450 pages, $3.50. 

Boston Town. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 

J. C. Shairp. 

Culture and Religion. i6mo, $.125. 
Poetic Interpretation of Nature. i6mo, $1.25. 
Studies in Poetry and Philosophy. i6mo, $1.50. 
Aspects of Poetry. i6mo, $1.50. 

Dr. William Smith. 

Bible Dictionary. American Edition. In four vols. 8vcw 
the set, $20.00. 

E. C. Stedman. 

Poems. Farringford Edition. Portrait. i6mo, $2.00. 
Victorian Poets. i2mo, $2.00. 

Hawthorne, and other Poems. i6mo, $1.25. 

Edgar Allan Poe. An Essay. Vellum, i8mo, $1.00. 



t4 Houghton , Mifflin and Company s 
Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

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Uncle Tom's Cabin. Popular Edition. I2mc $2.00. 

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Oldtown Folks. i2mo, $1.50. 

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Alfred Tennyson. 

Poems. Household Ed. Portrait and 60 illustrations. $2.00. 
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Idylls of the King. Complete. Illustrated. $1.50. 

Celia Thaxter. 

Among the Isles of Shoals. $1.25. 

Poems. $1.50. 

Drift- Weed. Poems. $1.50. 

Henry D. Thoreau. 

Walden. i2mo, $1.50. 

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Early Spring in Massachusetts. i2mo, $1.50. 

George Ticknor. 

History of Spanish Literature. 3 vols. 8vo, $10.00. 
Life, Letters, and Journals. Portraits. 2 vols. 8vo, $6.00* 
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Standard and Popular Library Books. 15 
J. T. Trowbridge. 

A Home Idyl. i6mo, $1.25. 
The Vagabonds. i6mo, $1.25. 
The Emigrant's Story. i6mo, $1.25. 

Voltaire. 

History of Charles XII. Crown 8vo, $2.25. 

Lew Wallace. 

The Fair God. i2mo, $1.50. 

George E. Waring, Jr. 

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In the Wilderness. 75 cents. 

William A. Wheeler. 

Dictionary of the Noted Names of Fiction. $2.00. 

Edwin P. Whipple. 

Works. Critical Essays. 6 vols., $9.00 

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Every-Day English. i2mo, $2.00. 
Words and their Uses. i2mo, $2.00. 
England Without and Within. i2mo, $2.00. 

Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney. 

Faith Gartney's Girlhood. i2mo, $1.50. 
Hitherto. i2mo, $1.50. 
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The Gayworthys. i2mo, $1.50. 



1 6 Houghton, Mifflin and Co's Catalogue. 

Leslie Goldthwaite. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 
We Girls. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 
Real Folks. Illustrated. i2mo, #1.50. 
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Sights and Insights. 2 vols. i2mo, $3.00. 
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Boys at Chequasset. $1.50. 
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John G. Whittier. 

Poems. Household Edition. Portrait. $2.00. 

Cambridge Edition. Portrait. 3 vols, crown 8vo, $6.75. 

Red-Line Edition. Portrait. 12 illustrations. $2.50. 

Diamond Edition. i8mo, $1.00. 

Library Edition. Portrait. 32 illustrations. 8vo, $4.00. 

Prose Works. Cambridge Edition. 2 vols. $4.50. 

John Woolman's Journal. Introduction by Whittier. $1.50. 

Child Life in Poetry. Selected by Whittier. Illustrated 

$2.25. Child Life in Prose. $2.25. 
Songs of Three Centuries. Selected by J. G. Whittier. 

Househocd Eaition. i2mo, $2.00. Illustrated Library 

Edition. 32 illustrations. $4.00. 

Justin Winsor. 

Reader's Handbook of the American Revolution. i6mo, 
£1.25. 

A catalogue containing portraits of many of the above 
authors, with a description of their works, will be sent 
free, on application, to any address, 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, Boston, Mass 




OCT 5 - 1950 






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